My studio was a single room renovated out of the old, brick garage. There was a nice sized skylight in the center of the ceiling for natural light. Unlike Pete, I kept the room a stark white shade on purpose, and kept my paints and supplies out of sight behind a wooden screen that stretched from floor to ceiling. Unlike him, I needed the focus of nothing to create my colorful work. If I had as much chaos and wacky stuff lying around as he and Tracy did, I’d never get a single painting done.
I glanced guiltily at the blank canvas on the easel and sat on the battered bamboo stool in front. Running my fingers over the canvas, it embarrassed me to see the amount of dust my fingertips gathered.
“Jesus, Luke. Maybe you need to get back to work.” I grumbled. Then I looked up at the greenish lig
