Seven

She turned around and looked at Matthew to see him smile with a mixture of pride and enjoyment. She did not know how to react. In shock and unable to think of what to do or say, she turned back to the painting.

There on the easel was a painting of her in all her naked glory, as she had stood in the river when they had first met. He had perfectly painted her in the surroundings and it seemed so real that she had an insight on what he had seen. He had painted her form perfectly. Her face was very recognizable, as her wet hair had been pushed back to reveal her features; a stubborn strand hung over her shoulder and framed her one breast as if to draw attention to it. Her skin glistened with the moisture still clinging to her. Her hands were at her side, fingertips gently touching the surf