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

something more action-packed, and publishers worry my stories

Ive been giving them away to friends, hoping someone might

for a

transitions are a bit rough,

things feel a little…

through a few more pages, her eyes

is, your art style

Its the flow.

transitions and building a smoother rhythm, your work

big shift, the transition would feel more

bottling lifes moments and turning them into

vivid memories you have and the way

you draw from that, your transitions will

admired his style after all, every artist had their own

the chapters,

spot where you could approach

to a new angle,

readers into the next scene without jarring

his brow, clearly eager to understand but still

think I get what youre saying… but how do I go about it? Allison thought for a

If she could guide Garry in the right direction,

a pencil on the floor, picked it up, and found a

playful Persian cat, its

Here, she said.

look

hit

Impressive! he stammered.

few fluid strokes, it was clear Allisons

had an uncanny command over structure and perspective, effortlessly mastering the balance between the

hand moved with the speed and

serene country path, flanked by wheat fields rippling like golden waves

background, its waters babbling quietly as if alive in

artist didnt just paint a picture they breathed life

sketch was more than a scene; it carried the weight of

summer afternoons, the scent of wheat heavy in the air, and the warm breeze carrying the fragrance far into the

longer Garry studied it, the more familiar

strange déjà vu crept