She Was An Artist

She was an artist. Her expertise was flowers and butterflies. This new art teacher said they had to draw a man. He had to be anatomical. It had to be indicative of muscles. What about eyes? She asked. Can I give him green eyes? Eyes and eyelashes were also fun for her. No eyes or butterflies! He said sternly. She kept her mouth shut, wisely not mentioning flowers. The art teacher was satisfied. This student was too quick-witted and smart. He was better with students who were compliant and diffident. He understood them better. She knew her Pollyanna attitude irritated people. But she barely knew him, so that could not be it. She tried to control herself, but of course, flowers sprung out. Just like they did in every painting she ever painted.