I lay restlessly on the bed. Changing sides for almost half of the night, I had had enough.
There was hardly anybody I wanted to talk to.
Should I rather talk to myself? I ventured into the corridor. I had left my slippers behind and I could feel the cold floor underneath. I was a little lost as always and had no idea where my feet were taking me.
I was tip-toeing quite confidently into the heart of the night until I don’t know what stopped me.
I catch him painting…!
And when I look at his canvas…my eyelids refuse to flap.
The victim of his passion leaves me awestruck, gaping for breath.
I never cared to know, but am I like this ethereal?
Is it bits of me that he has scattered with the paint on his canvas, or something in me that is known only to him?
Hell! She exudes energy…
PS: Aman, this one's for you! LoL