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Passion
Suddenly, I heard a crash come from somewhere upstairs. The studio? Mr. Weston’s face flashed through my mind. Panic immediately replaced any personal conflicts I was having. I ran up the stairs and burst into the studio. Mr. Weston was dusting himself off.
"What happened?" I asked, panting.
He seemed shocked to see me so out of breath. "Huh? Oh, I tripped over a tripod. That's all. Are you okay, Ms. Walton?"
I looked next to him. A tripod was, in fact, turned over on the floor. That was probably the crash I heard. I let out a deep sigh of relief. My heart started to slow back to its normal rhythm.
"Don't scare me like that again," I almost begged.
"I'm sorry?" His confusion made it sound more like a question than
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