Prologue
The day she glided the last stroke along his ever blue eyes was the day she abandoned the brush. It was the last time that she took a step back and gazed at her subject- unsure if she was welcoming her painting into creation or greeting it farewell.
Yes, it was the last day of her world filled with the scent of paint that she grew so accustomed with, the brushes and mixing plates with paints scattered everywhere, and the hands blotted with colors. It was the day that she had set off to the monochromatic world where her hands will be the blank canvas and her mind will be restricted of creativity.
The day she dropped her brush was the day she lost a friend. And to think that she'll never see his sapphire eyes ever again doubled the weight in her chest.
She'll miss him dearly.
