I stared at the half-finished canvas in front of me; trying-as I had been for the past two hours-to gather the motivation to paint. I had nothing else to do and Luca had disappeared into his office above the garage.
I fought the urge to slap the paint on my brush in a large 'X' across the canvas and trash it. All I had done for the past few hours had been stare at the imperfections and flaws that I saw and it infuriated me.
Would I be able to finish the painting in a month? If I was, who knew if I would even see my parents on their anniversary...
When would I give them the painting?
I couldn't imagine just mailing them something that had taken me months to finish. All of my work up to that point felt useless. Taking a deep breath, I stood up from the floor and stretched my legs out.
