“You know my opinion on what you’ve done.” Some rock song played on the solar-powered radio, and Merisi watched through slitted eyes from her stool. The cat had never liked Bridget.
“Broke two of my best plates,” Breann agreed, smudging some pastel on the canvas with her finger. As usual, she sat on her ladder with the easel on a bookshelf. Maybe the air or the view was better, but Breann always worked up high. Never gave the reason even when Bridget asked.
“This isn’t about us,” she stressed. Combining their first talk since breaking up with this proposition… It should’ve been easier.
“What is?” Breann smiled, switching to dry brushing the canvas with a dark paint. Another test piece, just Breann at play with expensive supplies. Some of those pieces were her best.
Bridget stepped forward, dropping the black folder on the middle rung. “Fill it out. Bring it back. Or I turn you in.”
[Copyrighted © June 19 2015, J.M. Blute]