The peculiar look of that main wall is, I think, due to . . . Shoot, I can’t remember which gray. Davy’s or Payne’s. I took a workshop with someone whose last name I 100% cannot remember now, but his first name was George. He showed us the joy of whichever gray I used here. The make-up of the paint makes the next layer of watercolor react differently, sliding around more. Anyway, sorry for getting your hopes up. I guess you’ll just have to experiment with both if you want to know which color it was. I do remember it is one of the tubes that has completely hardened, so I have to break off a chunk to use it and that means the tube and label are detroyed.

That was a terrible story to share. I could remember none of the details! Oh! Pratt! It was George Pratt. Forgive me. The workshop was in 2015.


After a grin and a pat on the back for Officer Rosenfeld, Isolde tromped ahead of Ambrose, back to Mary’s.

“Good afternoon,” simpered Mary, with bags under her eyes. “Would you like a muffin? I made more of my regular recipe. Since I dropped the other batch. I’ll probably never use that recipe again.” Mary side-eyed her kitchen.

“Sure!” Ambrose interjected before Isolde could get down to business.

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