Las Vegas – anno 2005
The swirling dark blue water brought back memories, warm memories of radiating body heat and wind in her hair.
Had it really been over ten years? What had…they done, or not done, since then to make life so cold at times?
She had opened the window over by her desk to let the orange light and soothing breeze visit for a while, but a draft had taken their place along with dusk.
The layered bottom hem of the floor-length curtain swooshed onto the desk in avoidance of the cool November wind and so taking the barely half-filled plastic cup and brushes with it.
By the time she could scramble across to the kitchen for paper towels the sound of muffled droplets hitting the chair seat told her eyes to look directly to the floor.
Sure enough, a transparent and shallow blue lake now appeared on the wooden surface slowly flowing toward her couch.
Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea after all…
Sara had always known that she was brilliant. What seemed like common sense to her growing up had just earned her anomalous stares from her peers and indifference from her parents. Her mind never turned off, still never does, and if an answer could be thought out or calculated, she would be on it.
Kandinsky and Klee were brilliant too, but the definition was about the only thing she imagined having in common with two such masters of the canvas.
Just the idea of painting had made her stress level increase, paint is unpredictable and uncontrollable and sure as heck can't be replicated in the same way a scientific experiment can. So why had her PEAP counselor suggested she take up painting 'for stress relief purposes' as she had so deftly put it? What could she possibly paint?
A still life would involve non-living things; she already had more than her fair share of dead entities. And landscapes would require a horizon she figured, and she only became depressed at the thought that her own horizon seemed void of any forms of life whatsoever.
"Colors, what do you think about colors Sara?" The question had been simple enough.
"What do you think about when you think about certain colors?" the counselor had asked again.
"Like blobs of color you mean?" Sara's quizzical features had been those of a full time investigator always on the job.
She didn't really have a good answer for that fuzzy inquisition, but it had made it into her revolving cycle of thoughts and she had caught herself thinking about it from time to time. When she had found the 16-color pan set of watercolors and accompanying assorted brushes, while looking for an old forensic journal in her closet, she had been pleasantly surprised. More than she could say had been the case when Nicky had given it to her at the graveyard's Christmas party last year, with the sentiment 'You need some color in your life Sara, get to it!'
It actually had been really sweet she had realized later, but she had still been moping over the fact that Grissom had drawn Catherine, of all people, as his $10-gift recipient. She would have loved to have seen what he would have thought of getting her. He had given her an entomology book last year, but it was definitely not part of their office gift exchanges, it had been in her locker after shift on Christmas Eve. To see what he would have come up with for her to receive in front of the others would have been intriguing.
Having of course drawn his name, she had made him a butterfly calendar with photos she had taken herself since she had come to Vegas, and had had it printed at her pharmacy's photo lab, $9.99. She had left out the card, but had instead written a little sentiment in each of the month's note sections.
January – A butterfly symbolizes nature's perfect symmetry