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.

lowered his

arent smooth

something more action-packed, and publishers worry my

been

thought for

bit rough, especially

things feel a

flipped through a few more pages,

thing is, your art style isnt the

Its the flow.

up the transitions and building a smoother rhythm, your work could

shift, the transition would feel

have a way of bottling lifes moments

the most vivid memories you have and the

your transitions will start to

after all, every artist

the chapters, she offered

you could approach it

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

lead readers into the

to understand but still puzzled

saying… but how do I go

Garry in the right direction, his talent could be the

the floor, picked it up, and found a blank piece

she sketched a playful Persian cat,

Here, she said.

look

jaw practically hit the

Impressive! he stammered.

fluid strokes, it

uncanny command over structure and perspective,

hand moved with the speed and grace of

a serene country path, flanked by wheat fields rippling like

gentle stream meandered through the background, its waters babbling quietly as if alive in

true artist didnt just paint a picture they breathed life into

more than a scene; it

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

it, the more

déjà vu crept