Fred Perry Art Novels & Stories

The ones that required his review but didn't need his signature went in a blue file, with her own report on a sticky note attached. Patricia stood up, taking the files with her as she casually strolled towards the file cabinet. With care, she placed the files inside and glanced at a black box file she hadn't noticed earlier. It was labeled 'my arts.' Curiosity piqued, she couldn't resist taking a peek.

"I paint. I am an artist." That pricked my curiosity, "really? I would love to see your works." "Alright, come with me." She said, standing up. Perry walked to the far end of the building, and I followed suit. She opened a door, and it seemed like I had stepped into a world of nature in its raw form. Each board had either the painting of a breathtaking forest or the sea in different forms. The room has a veranda separated from the room by a glass. The veranda oversees the lake, and a mini garden that I am sure must have been Perry's handwork.