Watercolor Constellations

The air on the balcony of the Hawthorne Fine Arts building smelled of turpentine, blooming cherry blossoms, and the distinct, electric anticipation of spring. Below them, the campus was a blur of students hurrying to evening classes beneath the pastel canopy of twilight, but up here, time seemed to have stopped.Maya dipped her brush into a pool of deep indigo. She was a walking canvas herself by now; her favorite cream sweater and denim overalls were speckled with vibrant dots of magenta, cerulean, and gold. She didn't mind. Messiness was simply a byproduct of creation.