“Nice painting. I bought a special feather duster just for you. This is going to feel sooooo good. You are going to like it.” She grabbed the duster off the table. “Okay, Madame Witch, you need a bath.” The voice worked on Mr. VanGo. If it worked on a horse, why not a painting?
Drawing a deep breath, she inched the tip of the rubber handled feather duster towards the oil. So far so good. Another inch. Three feathers tapped the oil. A mild tremor invaded her fingers and moved upwards.
“Okay, I can handle this.”
Slowly, gently, she dusted the bottom right frame. Warmth traveled into her elbow. “Whoa painting, good painting. I promise I won't hurt you. Just a little more, and we’ll be done.”
She leveled the wand so that all the feathers contacted the canvas. Warmth burst into her shoulder. “I can handle this. It doesn't hurt. It's just warm.”
“Okay painting, I'm going to pet you a little faster with the feathers. This may tickle a bit, but it will be over soon. Just hold on. Good painting.” She hurried her hand across the lower section.
Big mistake. “OMG!”
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