Fairytale
“But she had no choice. She waited until she was sure Adam had left, until she heard the sound of his car driving away, and then she went up to the bedroom, lugging her equipment downstairs and through the double doors into the study. She spread a drop cloth on the floor, and set the tripod atop it. Then she stood the canvas up. She’d donned a smock for the occasion, and she pushed her sleeves back automatically. And then she stood poised, and still, and silent. She focused on the painting above the mantel. Not just with her eyes, but with her very soul. And she waited.
As always, it happened. Her hands chose a color, and squeezed a daub of it onto the palette. She didn’t look at the tube of paint. Her gaze never wavered from the painting as she sought to cling to that state of soul-deep concentration she had to achieve in order to work. Without looking away, she grabbed another color, and squeezed it beside the first. She dipped her brush in one, and then the other, and then back agai...n, and she rolled the bristles against the wood until she felt the mixture was just right.MoreLess
As always, it happened. Her hands chose a color, and squeezed a daub of it onto the palette. She didn’t look at the tube of paint. Her gaze never wavered from the painting as she sought to cling to that state of soul-deep concentration she had to achieve in order to work. Without looking away, she grabbed another color, and squeezed it beside the first. She dipped her brush in one, and then the other, and then back agai...n, and she rolled the bristles against the wood until she felt the mixture was just right.MoreLess
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