Centered on a table, flowers sprouted out a fabric-covered vase, and Lynn sat before them, drawing the flowers in an oversized pad. Alongside her, a miniblind wand dangled, and she reached for it, and with a twist, the blinds opened, and moon-rays showered the flowers.
Click!
The kitchen illuminated, and beyond the table, a woman stood in a doorway, hand on a light switch.
“What am I going to do with you?” the woman said.
Lynn blew eraser scraps aside and used a thumb to shade stems.
The woman sighed and then crossed the room to a faucet, filled a cup with water, and ambled beside Lynn. “Goodness, your rendition seems more real than an actual. How is it you’ve captured such detail in pitch darkness?”
Lynn traced the flowers’ sepals, and the woman upturned a palm.
“So, your portrait’s so important you disregard your auntie?” the woman said.
“Apologies,” Lynn said. “The kitchen wasn’t pitch-dark.” She aimed a pencil toward the doorway. “Corridor light provided enough brightness for this piece.”
“For this piece, maybe. But last night, in the sculpture garden, you’d sat in moonlight drawing a half-dressed statue. And the night before, ‘round the same time, you’d sat at out there drawing a birdbath.”
Lynn shaded further.