oldnumberseven

Rachel sketched Caitlin. Caitlin leaned against an ancient tree. The lake was in the background. Rachel was close, only a few yards from Caitlin. Rachel drew broad light lines upon the paper. Rachel worked deftly and quickly. Caitlin wore her hair up, and a necklace made of azure stones. Caitlin had one leg tucked underneath her body, like a cat. Caitlin’s right leg was straight out and bent at knee, her toes pointed at Rachel. Caitlin sat upon giant white pillows, and leaned against the tree. The pillows had blue piping. Rachel drew in broad strokes, then finer lines. Rachel held the pencil high up near the end and loosely between two fingers and her thumb. Rachel’s grip of the pencil moved to the half mark as she made finer lines. Rachel took a pen knife from her shirt pocket and sharpened the pencil. Caitlin sat for three quarters of an hour, and Rachel sketched, and sharpened her pencil, and sketched. The sketches were preliminary to a painting.

‘This will do it,’ Rachel said.