Iapproached the back door, and there they were: beautiful works of art, basking in the sun.
They were porcelain white and flawless.
I was in awe.
“How do you do it?” I asked my friend.
Is she a painter? You might ask.
A sculptor? You might wonder.
No, she owns the prettiest ice chests I’ve ever seen, outside of a retail establishment.
“Ours are only this white the day they’re purchased,” I admitted, and she was almost embarrassed for me.
