“Moon river…..” Sinatra crooned from the cd player, filling up the room.
The red dress set off her dusky skin to perfection. He moved the stray tendrils of hair framing her face into place and stepped back.
She looked angelic with the light falling on her face.
“I’m scared I won’t be able to do justice to you.”
“Don’t worry, it’ll be perfect. I trust you” she said with a soft smile.
Turning to his palette he squeezed the paint from the tubes. He took a deep breath and the first strokes of paint added colour to the blank canvas.