33After Gaby had assured her that she was not concerned about a few tiny holes in the old wood, Becca had unrolled the drawing and tacked it to the back of the door in her cabin.
She stretched her hands and rubbed her fingers, feeling a familiar stiffness. She remembered a time when she drew every day. The callouses and dirty fingernails she wore as symbols of pride, proof she had fashioned something uniquely her own. She also recalled the pain, a repetitive-use injury not unlike tennis elbow. She would become so engrossed in her drawing that hours would pass, leaving her with aching shoulders, a sore neck, and cramped hands. And yet, that discomfort was also a sign of how hard she worked at her craft.
And then she quit drawing and painting. Had packed up her art tools: graphite and char
