Kendrick stepped out of the tinted van that dropped him off a block away from his art studio. His eyes scanned the area, his hand adjusting the black cap on his head as he slowly took in the scene.
The sidewalks were relatively clear, the corner café had its usual three morning regulars sipping coffee, and the small convenience store across the street had no unusual activity.
Most importantly, there were no reporters loitering nearby, no flashing cameras, and no mic-wielding strangers waiting to shove questions at his face.
"Looks like they finally got tired," he muttered under his breath.
Still cautious, he kept his head down and took the side alley entrance. The studio door creaked open, the scent of dried paint and turpentine welcoming him like an old friend. Once inside, he sighed in relief and quickly locked the door behind him.
