Natalie, Someone New

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ByEarl
Natalie used to paint standing, stretching to reach the tops of her canvases. After the chair, she spent a week staring at a blank one. Now paint freckled her lap as she rolled closer, her arm aching with the effort.

The self-portrait felt too much like being seen. Each brushstroke brought her closer to a face she recognized—and someone she was still learning to know.

She whispered a promise to be gentle with that face. When the instructor called time, Natalie kept looking at the painting, unfinished.

So was she.

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