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“I went over to my parents’ house when I knew they
wouldn’t be home and got some of my stuff,” Emily said by
way of explanation. “I hope this is okay. I promise I won’t get
any paint anywhere it shouldn’t be. It’s acrylic, so it’s water
soluble and doesn’t give off weird odors, so it’s safe for Mr.
Pickles to breathe in here while I’m painting. I really hope this
is okay.”
Dani’s mouth dropped open. Not because she felt that her
little space had already been invaded and couldn’t find it in
herself, no matter how she dug and clawed for it, to
completely hate the idea, but because when she walked into
the living room,
there were no less than eight smaller paintings
on drop sheets, drying in various spots throughout the room.
“They dry fast,” Emily explained, popping in behind Dani.
She had a broad yellow headband holding back loose strands
of her hair, which was done up in a messy bun. She was
wearing a yellow t-shirt and a pair of overalls. Nothing had
any paint marks on it and Dani wondered if Emily was rich
enough just to throw away the clothes if they did get paint on
them.
“Uh, I see that.” Dani walked over and inspected the first
canvas, which was set on the coffee table, along with three
others. The plastic behind them protected everything.
“I thought Mr. Pickles might walk on them, but I figured out
pretty quick that he wasn’t interested.”
“No. He’d rather spend all day sleeping.”
The first three paintings were of bison, strangely enough.
Two were more abstract and colorful, but the third one was so
realistic that Dani felt like she could almost reach out and twist
