Morning hit, and the birds sang within the cool air. There was no sunlight yet; it was still dawn, and most people were likely still in their deep slumber.
"Good morning," Hana whispered.
She looked at the clock hanging against her wall. "Still early." She smiled. "I guess I still have time to greet my precious arts in the basement."
She descended into the basement and was greeted by a faint, pleasant smell. Unlike other basements, hers didn't smell of moist wood, moss, or pungency. Instead, it held a mild scent of flowers with a hint of vanilla that lingered in the air.
Gazing at her works, she smiled. "Look at you... you are all perfect. It is such an honor to be the one preserving your purity."
She traced the air in front of a doll. "Someone suggested I sell you at a high price, but I spit on their words. Why would I sell you to someone who doesn't truly honor art? I'd rather let you be displayed in my sacred museum... untouched. I will let their eyes be mesmerized by you, let your beauty gauge their hearts out, and let them envy you—for you
have reached a perfection they will never achieve."
"Speaking of which..." she mused, "I wonder if a shadow will find its way trailing behind me again today?"
With that thought, she proceeded to wrap a finished doll in bubble wrap, carefully placing it in a box. It was ready to be transported to her haven... her own private art museum: The House of Dolls.
Upstairs, the only sounds were the scratching of pencils, the smooth and rough motions of a paintbrush, and the sound of Hana's peaceful yet perplexed breathing. Her eyes focused on an almost-finished canvas, her hands moving in swift, disciplined motions as she added lines, shades, and highlights.
Her aura was calm, yet intense.
With a satisfied look, she finally put the paintbrush down and wiped a bead of sweat from her face. At last, the painting was done.
"Hmm... at last."
"I remember when I first showed my paintings," she recalled. "They mentioned it looked like a child's drawing. I told them it was called realism, yet they only laughed in response, treating my words as a joke." She chuckled. "Little did they know I was far more than serious. It is indeed realism... a depiction of my own reality. What I truly see."
"Speaking of realism... I wonder..."
She set the dried painting aside and immediately started on another. She never seemed to run out of ideas. She scribbled lines across the edges, playing with colorful, endless patterns that danced freely across the white background. Oddly, she left a large, empty space in the very center, saving a special spot for someone.
She heaved a heavy sigh, rubbing her temples lightly. After a brief stare at the void in the canvas, she picked up her brush again. This time, she was more focused. Her eyes were glued to the center, her eyebrows knitting together in concentration.
When the clock dinged, she was finished. She dropped her brush, not shocked by the result, but simply... wondering.
Her internal moment was disrupted by the sound of the doorbell.
"A visitor?"
She stood up and checked the glass peephole. It was Harvey, her trusted assistant. He was the one who handled the logistics of her museum.
"Hiiiii! Goooood morning, Mademoiselle Hana! The sun has bloomed again to bless us with a beautiful embrace of brightness!" he greeted her with a radiant smile.
Hana smiled back, though her expression was more reserved. "Good morning to you, Harvey. By the looks of it, I suppose you have already received that blessing?"
"Hahaha, yes! I went for a jog earlier and, boy, I felt as if life were even lighter than before!"
Hana, being the realistic thinker she was, watched him. It's not the sun alone that makes him feel better, she thought. It's his healthy lifestyle and mindset. But who am I to shatter a boy's safe space? I'll let him be.
"It sure does," she said aloud.
"Sooo, are the artworks ready to be picked up?"
"Yup. They're ready. Be careful with them, though; they're heavy and fragile."
"I will always handle them with care, as if they were my own children," Harvey promised.
He headed toward the basement. Hana didn't worry; she trusted the young man completely. He was sweet, kind, and loyal.
He's just like my beloved golden retriever who passed away, she thought. My beloved 'Time'.
She let him do his job while she began coating her most recent painting. A moment later, she felt a presence behind her. She didn't flinch or turn around.
"Oooh, mama mia! This is a 'wowable' art piece indeed!" Harvey exclaimed.
Hana chuckled. "It is, isn't it?"
"I reckon this painting is special?" Harvey asked.
"How so?"
"I mean, I've been working with you for a while now, and this is the first time in years that you've drawn a face. Like, an actual face!" He beamed. "Usually, they are just figures with scribbled features and glowing eyes... some even look like horrifying animals with human bodies."
"It's just how I perceive the world," Hana said softly.
"And this face?" he asked with genuine curiosity.
Hana paused for a few seconds. "Well, if that's how I see them, that's how I see them. It's not my fault if most people show up as faceless figures to me. I drew you once, though, and you had a face."
"Yes, and I really appreciate that! I'm grateful you don't see me as another faceless figure. But Mademoiselle... do you really see me as a human golden retriever?" His voice was hesitant, but he wasn't complaining.
Hana laughed in genuine amusement and ruffled the younger man's hair. She didn't deny it. Harvey was surprised by the sudden affection, but he just smiled.
"Harvey, you really do remind me of my precious golden retriever," Hana said. You just make me miss him more.
"Harvey," she called out.
"Hmm? Yes, Mademoiselle?"
She gave him a cheeky smile. "Don't die yet, okay?"
Harvey found the comment a little concerning, but he didn't judge her. He never did, and he swore he never would. He simply smiled. "Of course, Mademoiselle. Thank you."
"Wanna know why you remind me of a golden retriever?"
"Gladly!"
"Unlike others, they listen without judging. They spread positivity and try their best to help others without expecting anything in return. They are bright and loyal. What do you think about that?"
Harvey smiled. He didn't find her words creepy; he felt she was simply misunderstood by others because she described the world differently. "Mademoiselle, thank you for seeing me in such a good light. I'll keep your words in my heart."
A while later, Harvey left with the art pieces secured in his trunk. He bid his goodbye and drove off. Once again, Hana was left alone, observing her newest work.
"Time sure runs slower today," she muttered. "Harvey is a great observer. He figured out what was going on with my work before I did... that it's been a long time since I drew an actual face."
"I thought it was going to be another scribbled figure. I didn't expect to see another face after all this time... one with such charming, special features."
"I wonder if I will see that face again."
She stood up from her stool to get some water. As she moved, the light hit the canvas fully, revealing the subject.
It was the girl from the playground. The girl who had been her shadow. The painting of "Night."
It was far from the abstract style she usually produced. For Hana, this was the most realistic thing she had ever painted.