I couldn't tell what she was painting at first, two delicate white fingers parted to enlarge the detail, sketching the feathers in light to deep tones, and then, retracting the pattern with a flick of her fingers.
Upon closer inspection, it was a painting of a crane.
Her painting looked as easy as drinking water, casual but precise with every stroke and outline, crisp and efficient.
Truly, these hands were meant for artistry.
The details of the crane's feathers were exquisitely rendered by her, most expressively the crane's eyes, which looked as real as life. She bowed her head, picking up an almond and bit into it, chewing slowly and deliberately, oblivious to how many she had consumed, becoming more addicted with each bite, sharp and pointed in her enjoyment.
Every so often, she would sip her floral tea, her mind completely absorbed in her craft.
