I snort. "I'd get fucking sick of it in two minutes." That's kind of an exaggeration, though. It probably wouldn't take even that long.

I take a long look at her, wondering if I could even begin to get her right on the page. This newest notebook is filled with sketches of Effy, but they're all fucked up, rushed. It's not like I could ask her to pose. I'd be embarrassed, just sitting there, watching her, like that.

"What was it for?"