She didn’t like a thing she sketched, drew, painted. She hopped downstairs, doubting, wondering if she’d have to get a job, like that one she had in college, the clerical.. medic… injection….. bullshit.
Looked left and saw the colored pencils her mother bought her last week. “Just because,” Mom said.
Kelly moved the red, then blue, orange, some unknown pink shade.
Finally she smiled.
She had to sell at least four to make rent. Spent last week’s sales already; coffee, new canvases, sketchpads.. what else she couldn’t remember.
This started to feel like a job. Budgeting.
She didn’t like it.