FOUND IN LAVENDER

He fell asleep in the middle of the flowers. The lavender grew around him — violet, white, endless — and he stayed. Ears soft. Spots still fresh on his coat. The kind of creature that makes you lower your voice without thinking.

The painting carries that same feeling. You do not want to disturb it. You find yourself looking longer than you planned, at the way the fur catches light, at the flowers leaning in as if to keep him warm.