Annah was her name.
And she was a young girl.
A girl who was being drawn by an artist.
Sitting in a chair.
A regal look about her.
Waiting for her portrait to be completed.
And then, suddenly, the artist had finished it.
Sitting back in his own seat.
A smile of confidence on his face.
“It is complete Annah,” he said.
She nodded her head.
Rising from her chair.
And walking to the back of him.
She gazed at the white canvas, and her face.
Her expression brightened.
And the artist looked up at her.
“That’s me,” she said quietly.