Would he be interested in showing his work

Would he be interested in showing his work? Elias read the email seventeen times. He read it on his phone at his desk. He read it in his car during lunch. He read it in his bathroom, sitting on the edge of the tub, trying to remember how to breathe. The voice in his head was screaming every possible objection. It's a scam. She's lying. You're not ready. You'll fail publicly instead of privately. You'll regret this. But another voice, one that had been silent for a very long time, whispered something different. What if? What if he said yes? What if he drove to that city and hung his paintings on those walls and stood in a room full of strangers who came to see something he had made? What if he failed spectacularly and survived? What if he succeeded beyond his wildest dreams? What if, what if, what if? Elias said yes. The three months between that email and the gallery opening were the hardest of his life. He painted obsessively, staying up until three and four in the morning, surviving on coffee and adrenaline and the terrifying thrill of doing something that mattered. He neglected his job in ways that got him written up twice. He stopped returning calls from friends who didn't understand what was happening to him. He lost weight. He stopped sleeping. He became a person he barely recognized.