"If you're tired, why not rest? You'll never be hurt again..."
Ib read the canvas inside a gray room, and stared at Garry. "... Ib? Do you want to take a break?"
Ib slowly nodded her head. Garry nodded as well. "Alright then, I guess we could just sit down on this couch... It feels weird to be sitting on a piece of art, but if the canvas tells the truth, I suppose there's no harm done."
Ib and Garry sat down. The fabric of the couch felt a little tough, but it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Instead, it was somewhat comforting.
"Ib, if we're going to be sitting around, I'll take a nap. Wake me up when you're ready, okay, Ib?"
Ib nodded.
Ib looked around one last time at her parents, and began to feel tired. She felt like she was home.
"Thanks, Ib."
Ib nodded.
"..."
Ib nodded.
Ib nodded off.
Minutes turned to hours, hours turned to days, days turned to centuries. At that point, Ib and Garry were no different than the painting of Ib's parents. Just another part in the gallery.
Eternal Slumber.