A flat or level surfaceTuesday dawned bright and clear. Julia stirred in the wide bed and I heard her yawn and turned from the window to observe her stretch. Her arms reached above her to touch the wooden headboard and the sheet rode down to reveal the swell of a breast. Her creamy olive skin contrasted with the starched white of the bedding, and I closed my left eye and lifted my right thumb in front of my face. I longed to push the events of the day aside and just paint her. My thumb provided perspective and allowed me to place her on an imaginary canvas. I hadn’t understood the concept of beauty until I’d painted Julia. The narrators in my mind mumbled to each other, knowing they couldn’t challenge her. They cowed before her and gave me a moment of peace.
“Big day today, Jacques.” She
