Arlene hung the last painting on the gallery wall and stepped back to check if it was straight. She had done this seventeen times before — set up shows, arranged the chairs, made sure every piece faced outward so someone might smile at what she'd made. The room always stayed empty. She walked outside to adjust the sign on the sidewalk. A woman stopped beside her, holding a small bag from the shop down the street. "This Friday?" the woman said, reading the bright letters. "I'll be here. I love landscapes." Arlene kept her hand on the sign frame. Three years of forgotten promises had taught her what these words meant. But the woman was already pulling out her phone, adding something to her calendar with quick taps. She looked up and smiled. "What time does it start?" Arlene told her six o'clock. The woman nodded, tucked her phone away, and walked off toward the parking area. Arlene stood there on the sidewalk, watching her go. She had a choice now — believe this stranger would show up, or protect herself the way she always had. She picked up the sign and carried it back inside, leaving the glass case of paintings facing the street where anyone could see them.