After I decided that the brushes and palette were sufficiently clean and my song had ended, I returned them to where they belonged and re-entered the studio to pack away my things. I paused halfway across the room, noticing something laying on top of the wet canvas. I hastily closed the remaining distance, snatching the objects from the canvas to take in the damage they'd done to the wet paint. I was confused to find that, although still drying, each stroke was exactly as I'd intended it, still perfect and lifelike. I was even more perplexed when I took in the offending objects that I gripped in my palm.
A tiny posy of a couple of hydrangeas and peonies, exactly like the ones I'd depicted on the canvas, were clutched in my fist. I held them up, examining them from each angle, finding no unsightly brown spot or torn petal. They were truly beautiful.
My eyes flickered from my painting to the posy, taking in their remarkable resemblance to one another.
Another one of the students in my class must have seen what I was working on as they left, and brought me the flowers as encouragement. I had several good friends in the class, and my art friends were always the ones to go above and beyond with sweet gestures. I made a mental note to question suspects the next day. It was such a kind deed, I'd have to do something to thank them.
I carefully placed the flowers on the desk as I put the canvas somewhere it could dry and where my teacher would notice it. I was excited to hear his comments on the piece, sure that he, too, would not have expected me to be so proficient so soon. As I collected my laptop and bag, I handled the posy of flowers with gentle care, excited to place them in a vase once I returned to my cluttered apartment. I lifted them to my nose and took in their fresh fragrance, revelling in such a lovely end to a mostly good day
YOU ARE READING
Painted-tcl
Bilim Kurguthey always said paintings could be so realistic you think you could touch them...or could you?
