His hair was wet, and drops of sweat were dripping down is chin. He had just finished a six hour long session of continuous painting. The summer sun moved from its mid-sky position. The sky is now light pink, as the sun sets on his masterpiece. She sits across the room, her tanned skin glistening in the orange light. The shadows on her curves kept changing, and he kept following them, to get the perfect balance. It had all become exhausting as the afternoon sun heated up the air in the room, and the morning breeze had disappeared. It was time to stop.
She lifts up the red sheets to cover her back and held it around her as she walked behind the dressing screen. He smiles and turns to put down the paint-covered palette. He wipes his face and long hair with a towel. For years, he had always cut his hair short and neat. After jumping to his new career, his new found joy gave him the freedom to be what he wanted to be, even if it meant growing his long dark wavy hair.
They both walk out to the humble garden-like balcony he set up two-months ago. They have a sweet cold glass of lemonade, as they both relaxed and chatted about their plans for the coming Saturday.
The phone rings. As he gets up to answer, she stands up with him. He chats to the person on the other side, as she signals to him that she must leave. She throws him a small wave, and guides her way to the door. He hurriedly tries to finish up the phone conversation with his client, but he hears the front door close and sees the apartment empty. He continues the ongoing conversation, while staring at the red paint that covered his hands all the way down to his toes. Red is the color of passion. He finished the phone call, and walks over to where he was painting, and stares at the empty chair where she was sitting. A light breeze makes the moment a little more dreamy than it had to be.