her | chaennie

II: foreshocks are clues

art isn't something that's money-making.

as an art student, jennie grew tired of hearing those things over and over. people never stopped making unwanted comments about how it's a waste of time and not worth it.

there are more important things in life than money—goals, love, art. hell, jennie wasn't in it for the revenue.

art gave her the ability to express herself better than letter and numbers. she was free to express emotions, thoughts, and experiences with every stroke of her brush, without being judged, without people telling her everything she does is wrong. how every line, every color is vital to her story being written on the white canvas. she had fun making it, letting her creative mind run wild. and then marveling at the outcome.

the art is the reward itself. seeing something from her imagination come to life, knowing that there is a story behind it and that people can connect and relate to just by looking.

the thought of making every person in the room feel something as they stare at her creation scratches that itch money never can. it's fulfilling.

there will never be enough money or time for jennie. there's only art, something truly hers. something that people will remember her for centuries after she's gone. true immortality.

"hi, i'm so sorry to bother you but-" jennie looks up from her sketchbook slightly irritated, and a woman with blonde hair stands shyly across the table. with eyes as sharp as jennie's, it only took one look to notice everything about her.

the girl was pale with a svelte figure, and her height made jennie so envious that she muttered under her breath, "mother of Jesus, how tall is she?" that same breath she held so quickly as her gaze was drawn to the woman's face.

she had the face of a literal angel. harmonious, perfect, unreal.

jennie was left with nothing to do but gape in astonishment.

her luscious blonde hair billowing with the summer wind. well-proportioned brows. soft, chubby cheeks. cute button nose. full red lips. but the most defining characteristic was her eyes—dark brown, bright and captivating.

it takes a lot to enthrall jennie. only impressionism can have such an effect on her.

but this woman was a living, breathing work of art, and jennie was dying to paint her onto one of her canvases.

the girl could only smile amusingly at jennie's inquisitive expression when she saw her staring a little longer than she should.

"-we're closing, miss," the girl says, and jennie realizes she's wearing the café uniform. she recognized it because she'd been here before; it could be her favorite place to relax and sketch people.

jennie's sure that she had never seen her before. after all, she had a face that's not easy to forget and if jennie had seen her then, she would already be in one of her sketchbooks.. or maybe even occupy a dozen.

"oh," jennie muttered as she examined her wristwatch. when the time flashed on the screen, her eyes widened. 10pm. "oh my god, i'm so sorry."

the blonde girl watched as jennie jumped to her feet, grabbing her belongings and quickly stuffing them into her bag.

"it's not a problem at all; we all lose track of time, especially when doing what we enjoy," the woman reassured her. even the sound of her voice was calming to jennie.

"yeah, I'm an art s-student. i like to sketch people and places and and uhm.." jennie stumbled for words, transfixed by the beautiful woman in front of her. "i-i s-should leave right now."