Purple paint.
Argument.
Shove.
Punch.
Fall.
Arielle stepping back.
When it ended, she asked, “What happened before this?”
Arielle smiled.
“That’s the right question.”
She told her.
Not thirty seconds.
Eight months.
The fellowship.
Brochure jokes.
Faculty rankings.
The showcase.
No-contact order.
By the time she finished, the fight looked like what it had actually been.
The last scene of a much longer problem.
Years passed.
The video resurfaced occasionally.
Some posts claimed Sadie had been expelled.
She had not.
Others claimed Arielle was a trained martial artist.
She was not.
One especially ridiculous account claimed Andre was a famous professional boxer.
He sent it immediately to the family group chat.
Finally getting the recognition I deserve.
Arielle replied, You hurt your back moving a lamp last month.
Danielle responded with twelve laughing emojis.
Life became larger than Cedar Ridge.
Arielle finished art school, worked in graphic design, and eventually became a children’s book illustrator.
Her grandmother lived long enough to see the first book with Arielle’s name printed on the cover.
She kept a framed reproduction of Still Here in her living room.
The original painting stayed with Arielle.
The purple shadows remained.
She never restored them completely.
People sometimes assumed the color had always been intentional.
Arielle rarely corrected them.
The painting belonged to her either way.
Years later, Cedar Ridge invited her back to speak during a student arts festival.
The old courtyard looked almost identical.
The easels had changed.
The brick walls had not.
A group of students was painting outside when Arielle arrived.
One Black sophomore stood beside a large canvas while a white girl mixed colors nearby.
“Can I use your purple?” the white girl asked.
The Black student nodded.
“Just don’t kill the whole cup.”