He wished she wouldn’t block the light. If she had to stand before a window, why did it have to be the one he was trying to paint by? He explained — again — that this was the only window that faced north.

It was also the only one that gave the sea. She had to gaze at the waves. They filled her with joy.

He wasn’t interested in her joy. He needed to unravel the truth of color and shape. What else really mattered…