Secrets Of The Neglected Wife: When Her True Colors Shine

Chapter 153: Since the reporters hadnt shown up yet, Allison leisurely browsed through some comics at the mall.

Her attention was drawn away when she heard a soft voice from a nearby corner.

Excuse me, miss… Would you like to take a look at my comics? Turning around, she saw a young man with a boyish face crouched in the corner.

Before him lay a few comics, arranged in a modest display clearly an attempt to promote his work.

Unfortunately, anyone passing by barely spared him a glance.

Its fine if you dont want to buy them.

If you like it, I can give it to you for free.

Just take a look, thats all I ask, he said, his gaze flickering with a hint of envy toward Onyxs polished stall, quickly masking it with a friendly grin.

Im not famous, but I hope this story might brighten your day, even just a little.

Allison, with time to kill, crouched down and picked up one of his comics.

To her surprise, his artwork was diverse and inviting, each panel imbued with a tender warmth that was hard to ignore.

The cover of the comic she held featured a delightfully clumsy cat, its fluffy, round body perched by a window, attempting to act cute.

Her heart softened; there was something undeniably endearing about it.

The cat in this story is inspired by one I used to have, the young man explained, a fondness glowing in his eyes.

Back when I lived in the countryside, it was just me and the cat.

I try to capture that feeling, hoping it brings a bit of warmth to everyone who reads it.

Allison flipped open the comic and noticed the name Garry Schmidt scribbled inside.

It seemed to be his real name.

Your art is really impressive.

Why hasnt anyone bought it? Have you thought about submitting your work to a publisher? These drafts are great, but you could definitely take them further.

His talent was clear the way he balanced the pacing, the smooth progression of each scene, all carried a quiet charm.

The animals he drew had a lovable awkwardness, the landscapes felt naturally serene, and his characters, like the young boy in shorts, exuded innocence and simplicity.

his

transitions arent

and publishers worry my stories

printed these myself, using my savings, and Ive been giving them away to friends, hoping

for

bit rough, especially when

feel

a few more pages, her eyes catching

your art style isnt

Its the flow.

you took more time setting up the transitions and building a smoother rhythm,

a big shift, the transition

a way of bottling lifes moments and turning them

about the most vivid memories you

that, your transitions will start to

his style after all,

of the chapters,

where you

pen is a camera, gradually panning to a new angle, subtly hinting at whats about

would lead readers into the next scene

brow, clearly eager to

but how do I go

Garry in the right direction, his talent could be the key to countering Onyxs hold on the

a pencil on the floor, picked it up,

quick strokes, she sketched a playful Persian

Here, she said.

look at

practically hit the

Impressive! he stammered.

it

structure and perspective,

with the speed and grace

cat she had drawn emerged a serene country path, flanked by wheat fields rippling like golden waves under the soft caress of the

its waters babbling quietly as if

true artist didnt just paint a picture they breathed life into

more than a scene; it carried

afternoons, the scent of wheat heavy in the air, and the warm breeze

it, the more familiar

déjà vu crept