36
Julia
My hands were covered in paint. Drop cloth obscured the hardwood floor of my studio. Canvas took up every open space.
It was perfect. A messy perfection.
Just like me.
Something had taken over me ever since I moved in. I couldn’t stop painting, drawing, sketching. I’d even tried my hands at sculpting. Art infused my body and my mind. It made my soul sing.
It was like I’d found my muse.
My eyes moved to the only one hundred percent finished painting in the whole room. It was the naked picture of Austin I’d painted in art class this summer.
Nina had called me to come pick it up even though I wasn’t taking any more classes. She’d been impressed with my work and asked me to come back. She’d introduced me to the art community in Lubbock.
And, suddenly, I’d come alive. I had a
