Afternoon light through the window like a bad decision

It’s 2:30 and I’m staring at the way the sun hits the edge of my desk—gold on the spine of that old anatomy text I haven’t opened in months. The kind of light that makes you feel both seen and invisible. I keep thinking about the surgeon who asked for ‘more red’ in the illustration last week. Not just more saturated, but meaningful red. Like the color had to bleed into the narrative. I don’t know what that means exactly, but I’ve been trying to draw it all afternoon. And now the light is gone. Just like that.