A messy tangle of blonde curls spilled across the pillow, sunlight streaming through an open window and bathing Anna Sullivan in gold. Opening sleepy eyes, she blinked once, and then twice, attempting to reconcile her dreams with reality. Resisting the urge to pull the blankets over her head for another hour’s sleep, she stretched her arms high over her head, her green- stained fingertips brushing the headboard.

Bare feet slapped down onto hardwood, and within minutes the sound of the coffee maker could be heard humming away. True, it was early, but that was when the best light was. If she slept in, she would never finish her painting, and then she would never get paid.

Donning a pair of worn, comfortable jeans and a faded t-shirt, Anna hauled her easel and pack on to her shoulder, and taking a sip of coffee from her travel mug, she left the tiny apartment as quietly as possible. It was almost as if she was afraid to wake herself in an alternate universe, the one where she was still blissfully asleep with the sunshine across her face and her mind deeply enamoured with dreams.

The way was familiar, each twist and turn of the sidewalk as natural as breathing, and in no time she was standing at the edge of Central Park. It took a few minutes more for her to arrive at her favourite spot, a little patch of lush grass beneath the largest oak in the park.  Setting her things down about her and kicking off her shoes, she eyed the branches above her with affection. “Sleep well?” she asked the old tree quietly, her fingers busy unrolling canvas. The scene she had already begun on the cloth was one of the great branches above her, the dark limbs flowing across the page like water, the dappled sunlight streaming through them and bringing to mind lazy summer afternoons and the sound of leaves rustling against one another in the wind.

The slick feeling of the paint was intoxicating to Anna. Switching from brush to pallet knife, and even using her fingers when it felt right, she explored the tree, every curve and nook accounted for and documented with endless patience. Hours seemed to pass in an instant, the light slowly making its way higher and higher into the sky until the shadows were no longer cooperating and Anna was forced to stop. Biting her lip in annoyance, Anna glared up at the sky. Rolling her aching shoulders, she wiped her fingers on a handy rag and slid off of her little foldable stool and on to the cool grass.

Giving the paint time to dry, Anna lay on her back in the grass, her arm folded behind her head and her eyes taking in the clouds above. She had been reveling in one particular cloud, in the shape of a water buffalo, when something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. Propping herself up, she turned in the direction of the commotion, her eyes growing wide.