you were sitting on a porcelain stand with flowers next to you, you are looking at a blond man painting. being in a dark barn where the only light source is the dim glow of a lamp on the canvas, you were plunged into a slight anxiety. but most of all, you were confused by the fact that the entire barn was laid with your portraits, photos and poetry written by Preston in your honor.

Preston himself was hiding behind an easel, painting you. he occasionally looked out and smile to look at you