The Right Subject
Derek felt tonight's apprehension squeeze itself under his shirt and crawl across his skin. It was prickly and hot and he didn't want to think about it anymore. Derek had had more gallery openings than he could count, but it never seemed to get any easier. He couldn't relax enough to mingle and network, which was what these things were all about. Maybe that's why he was 45 and still drove a cab around. He'd picked up an extra shift with the taxi cab company. He found that driving was...