"The ones in the bag are all just as bad, if not worse," Emma grimaced, "The ones on the floor should be in the bag, but, this one I like, well, I would wouldn't I it's in pencil."
There was a slightly angry tone at the end, and a twist to her expression that spoke eloquently of frustration and confusion. She tilted the pad towards Andy, and held up the single yellow rose, just half open, alongside the pad. "I can draw, with almost anything, I just, can't paint."