C371

That year, when the alfalfa blossomed, she lay on his chest, holding the brush in her hand, licking it with her mouth, moistening the tip of the brush, then, little by little, she drew the alfalfa on his chest, deepening its outline, adding a few strokes at will, then proudly stepped back, beaming, "I found myself drawing more and more!"

He had a complacent look on his face