Blank

She stared longingly at the blank canvas in front of her. The room was filled with a musty scent of paints. It seemed as if the room had seen nothing else but beautiful paintings being created. She stepped forward and touched the canvas cautiously, as if she was scared that her slightest touch would make her fervid imagination materialize on the blank canvas. Her fingers went in patterns, over and over again. They traversed the entire canvas, painting every little detail of her fictive painting.

She spent hours playing with that canvas. When she finished, she beamed at it proudly. Nobody in the world but her could see the masterpiece she had just created. Then again, the world had everything to see while she couldn’t. All she had was her painting. She picked up her cane and slowly walked away, still smiling.

Blank

 

 

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