"It lacks courage and honesty..."

Pam swallowed her sob and swiped furiously at her tears before opening her front door. She looked around her small apartment, taking in her living room and her (one) kitchen. She took in her spartan décor: a couch, a coffee table, tiny TV, plain kitchen table. No artwork on the walls whatsoever. Her walls were still white. Hardly the apartment of an artist. Who was I kidding?

She threw herself onto the couch, took a deep breath, and waited for her crying to subside. When her sobs finally ceased, she looked at the artist's portfolio on her coffee table. She thought back over all her projects in art school. All still-life. She liked still-life because it was safe, predictable. Just like me.

Pam thought back on what her teacher had told her. "Your drawings are very true to life, but they lack a personal touch. Just because it's still-life doesn't mean it can't be personal. It seems like you're drawing what everyone expects you to see, instead of what you truly see."

She had taken those words to heart, she really did. And when she came back with more drawings , her teacher was impressed. "There's some real feeling in these pieces. I can tell you put your heart and soul into them. I hope you show these at our art show."

And she was going to. Until last weekend, after Phyllis' wedding. That Monday she had gone back to her teacher, asking if she could change her submissions for the show. Her teacher was confused, but consented.

Pam picked up the portfolio and took out the drawings inside. Her original submissions.

A stapler in jello.

An iPod.

A blue striped scarf.

Her green teapot.

She held her breath as she flipped to the last page. The one that had impressed her teacher the most, and made her heart stop whenever she looked at it.

She traced her hand lightly over the lines, as though touching the paper might smudge them into oblivion.

If I were honest and courageous...

She fell asleep there on her couch, tears dried on her face, hands clutching desperately to the sides of her last drawing. A drawing of two pairs of hands, clasped together, but gently slipping apart.