Paula flipped her pencil, erasing the same line she'd been struggling with the past 25 times. No one said being an artist was easy, but for her, it seemed impossible to come up with something that well... trash. Something that didn't remind her of Belch anyway.

Sitting cross-legged in a patch of grass in a clearing of the woods, the wildflowers were easy enough. Apply a few strokes here and there, and observe the petals carefully... that's it! Paula carefully stood and brushed the grass off her legs, calling the first person she could see.

"Jeff! Wait! I'd like to ask you a favor, if you don't mind. Are you busy?"

The blue eyes were wide and surprised, the light gleaming along the rim of his glasses. He didn't seem to be carrying anything, and he didn't seem too bothered at the moment.

"Oh, Paula! Um... n-no. What's going on? Do you need me to fix something?"
"No, you don't have to do anything. It's just that I'm having trouble drawing this picture and I need you for reference."
"Reference? Erm... what kind of reference?"
"Oh, just a model. Do you think you can stand over there while I sketch you?"
He blinked. "Sure... I can do that."

Paula led the inventor by the hand, whose cheeks pinkened as he followed like a timid fawn with his mother.

~

"Let me know if you get stiff, okay?"
"That's okay, I can handle it! I sit in the same position for hours fixing those Bottle Rockets!"
"Well, if you could just look that way... there... a little more to the left, good good... good! Stay there!"

Like a nunchuck, she twirled the pencil and set to work. Every so often, Paula glanced over her sketchbook, catching certain lines and angles and erasing when needed. Her arm trembled with fever, like a spark crackled alive in her imagination—she couldn't believe how much she was taking from Jeff! The face wasn't a hassle anymore, and the skritchy circles, curves and slants of his glasses fell right into place without her even trying—her lips curled a smile as she dabbled the cheeks with freckles—her face lit as she realized this made the subject over her picture more real. She cleaned stray lines of his hair, feeling herself blind in excitement. The clothes were last, as she applied buttons and tassels and cuffs... she applied rough shading, and again stood up.

"Okay! I'm done. Thanks Jeff."
"Oh, sure." The boy shook his head, as if waking from a trance. He'd been used to staring into these trees and flowers and sky for so long, the colors locking him in his thoughts—Jeff trembled again as Paula took his hand, showing him her sketch.

"Well? What do you think?"
A softness came over his eyes, raising a lense at the familiar boy in the picture, gazing somewhere with hands in pockets across the meadow. "You did a good job." he almost whispered. "Better than I could of done. I... you make me look nice in this."
"Of course you look nice! Because you are." Paula grinned. "I'm still a beginning artist. I just draw what I see, and I saw you."

The color returned to Jeff's cheeks, moved by her words and unable to think of any better to say. The most he could do was accept Paula's lips over his, holding her arms for support. Her warmth caressed him, justifying his inner beauty.

The picture was complete.