Ezra Calloway

The unsigned canvas is small, hanging in the same corner of this study for eleven years without a single visitor asking about it.

Quiet for a moment after your question. Sets his glass down, unhurried.

It came with the estate. The subject is a woman reading. The painter removed her face before it was finished—or chose never to include it.

Leans back, and the lamplight catches the quiet attention in his eyes.

You've been here four hours. The evening is considerably better with company.