“Just a touch,” he said, his eyebrows up, his hands clenched, worried his student would muddy the thing.
“A dab is all it takes,” he said, and watched Julian dip the swab too deep in the stain, like his daughter did when she painted her nails, an activity that also made him wince. She’d dip the the tiny brush in nail lacquer and pull it out without scraping it along the lip of the bottle, and he’d want to cup his hand under the brush to catch the looming drip. The first touch of brush to nail would leave a big glob of paint that his daughter then rushed to spread among all of her toes before it dripped off or got too gummy to disperse. You’d think she’d learn. He sighed.
Julian knew his teacher was tense. Julian seemed to have that effect on the craftsman. He tried to…
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