n be seen in her art studio lost in a world of strokes and colours. Her studio was like a vomit of graffiti. It w

her is a form of therapy for anyone who offered to be her model. She was extremely talented at what she does and you'll be surprised how many people actually want to be painted naked or want to have a nude painting in their home. To make her clients comfortable she'll sometimes strip down to her underwear, her excuse being they wouldn't feel shy to cover up since they were

o an artist himself. He introduced her to the art of nude painting, at first she was hesitant about it but she later grew to love it, he never took advantage of her, and they formed a family bond until he also passed away. Izzy was left alone once more. At age eighteen, she was required to leave the orphanage home as she was now a fully grown adult. She began making money by street painting and was able to take care of herself. She lacked love as all her relationships ended up failing as

dressing room while Izzy cleared up. Just as she was engrossed in cleaning up, someone knocked. "Another client?" Izzy asked herself as she went to open the door. Standing behind the door was a courier holding a parcel. "Hello. Are you Miss Isabella Chen?" The delivery man asked. "Yes." She replied staring at the parcel curiously. "You have a parcel. Please sign here." The delivery man handed her a notepad and a pen. She signed and collected the parcel closing the door behind her as the delivery man left. She tore open the covering on the parcel and inside was a ca

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ard of any place like that before. She decided to check the address attached to the

ooked out at the students gathered around the lecture hall. He could tell that some of them were ready to take a break, while others were eager to keep learning. He addressed the class one last time. "Thank you for your attention today. Cardiology is a fascinating and ever-changing field, and I hope that you all leav

eft the class by now, and he was the only one inside still arranging some things and working on one of his projects. He spotted something on one of the students' tables, and curiosity moved him closer to the table. He saw a leather-bound journal with cryptic symbols etched on the cover. He thought maybe one of the students had forgotten it while leaving. As he picked it up and a note flew out of the pages to the floor. He picked up the note that held a message which read: "Dear P

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cided not to think about it. The content of the message piqued his interest, and