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Months later, standing in the back of a crowded theater, Elias watched the screen. The characters spoke words he hadn't written, in scenes he hadn't fully imagined. But when the detective stepped into the monochromatic world Elias had dreamt up in a cramped apartment, he knew it was still his.

The light in the studio office was dim, smelling of stale coffee and expensive cologne. Elias sat across from a producer who had just finished reading his thirty-page treatment. credit with

"It’s good, Elias," the producer said, tossing the pages onto a mahogany desk. "The bones are solid. The 'hook' of a detective who can only see in black and white? Inspired." Months later, standing in the back of a