“I want to be beautiful.” She says this far too often. She tells me she can’t be beautiful if she doesn’t believe she is.

“I could tell you you are, but you wouldn’t believe me”

“Of course I wouldn’t” Her smile faltered.

“I hope you know that you’re not wearing clothes for this painting.”

“I- I know I’m just taking a moment for myself before taking everything-“

“It’s okay. If you’re not ready for it today we can postpone”

“If you really think I’m…”

“I do. Correction, I know you are.”

She smiled wide where her eyes closed a little. “Then I think I can do it”

“Whenever you’re ready”

She slipped off her baggy sweatpants first, followed by boxers, then her shirt very slowly. It took me a moment to adjust to seeing just this much of her but if I stared too long I knew it would make her overthink. “Okay that’s- good now if you could look up and put your hand over your heart making it look like it’s lazy- yes just like that. I want to see the pain in your face when you look up at the sky. Perfect.” I wanted to make jokes, I really wanted to make her smile but I knew if she did I wouldn’t have the focus to paint. She tried not to look at me as I switched looking at her, to painting a thin outline first. It wasn’t easy with a figure such as her to reference but this was the professional life an artist is meant for. She sighed a bit dramatically. “I’m sorry it’s not the most exciting but I did double check-“