“But it’s in the name of charity,” Alette heard one woman explain to her husband.
Alette looked at the paintings that she had placed around the booth, most of them landscapes in bright, vivid colors that leaped from the canvas.
She was filled with misgivings. “You’re wasting good money on paint, child.”
A man came up to the booth. “Hi, there. Did you paint these?”
His voice was a deep blue. No, stupid. Michelangelo dropped by and painted them.
“You’re very talented.” “Thank you.” What do you know about talent?
A young couple stopped at Alette’s booth. “Look at those colors! I have to have that one. You’re really good.”
And all afternoon people came to her booth to buy her paintings and to tell her how much talent she had.
And Alette wanted to believe them, but each time the black curtain came down and she thought, They’re all being cheated.
An art dealer came by. “These are really lovely. You should merchandise your talent.”
“I’m just an amateur,” Alette insisted, and she refused to discuss it any further.
At the end of the day, Alette had sold every one of her paintings.
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