Chapter 4 — Unfinished Sketches

Ivy Laurent

The bistro was quiet now, an eerie calm settling over the space that felt worlds away from the chaos of earlier. Faint embers glowed in the candle holders on the tables, and the warm aromas of garlic and butter had faded to the subtlest trace, lingering under the fluorescent hum. Ivy sat cross-legged on the floor of the staff breakroom, her sketchbook balanced precariously on her knee. The room was small and cluttered, with mismatched chairs and an overburdened table stacked high with forgotten menus, half-empty water bottles, and a stray apron draped over the back of a chair. A faint smell of burnt coffee lingered, mingling with the refrigerator’s hum, grounding her after the whirlwind of her first few days.