Butterflies

MASTERPIECE.

She was pale, with freckles painted across high cheekbones and on the bridge of her nose. Dark, unruly, hair brushed thin shoulders. A linen blend dress, buttoned down the middle, flared at her waist. She stood in a field of flowers. Her eyes were unfinished.

ANNA.

Now her hair had become longer. And straight rather than curly, to hide new and old bruises. She was slim, also slightly deeper from being outside all the time. A light pink maternity dress cradled her growing belly, her Wren. Anna loved the garden she stood in.

THE ARTIST.

He drew Anna quickly, before she left the shop. Then again, sitting together on the river. She was first portrayed on a canvas in the field behind his house. Running just when he came close enough to start her eyes.

FLOWERS.

"You shouldn't know all my secrets," She laughed, heart racing.

"I can give you more," He whispered catching her, his arms around her torso. Anna stilled, tracing her nose along the side of his face. "Ellis," She breathed. There was a soft fluttering in her stomach.

ELLIS.

At the same time she heard him enter their house, Anna's right fingers stopped pressing into the broken edges of the stone bird bath. She looked to the back door, her left fingers gliding over her small bump. When she saw him, her brows knitted. He smiled.

BUTTERFLIES.

Behind her, he took a shaking left hand and guided it to his cheek. He rested his hands on top of her other, kissing the bare skin of her shoulder. She exhaled unsteadily. Moving Anna's hair aside, he kissed the blossoming patch on her neck. Anna's eyes fell closed.