The Attic mural flooded the space. The judges looked up, gasping as the copper swirls of Mandy’s imagination spiraled across the rafters, making the cold industrial room feel like the inside of a sunset.
"I don't have anything, Jax," she muttered, trying to smooth out a particularly wrinkled drawing of a gargoyle. "You have the Attic," Jax said simply.
She didn't say a word. she didn't have to. The girl who spent her days trying to blend into the backwater table had just invited the whole world into her head, and for the first time, the view was spectacular.