Roberto surveyed his work. It wasn’t quite right. It was definitely what he was trying to achieve, ink swirling and dripping, but something was missing.
“For Christ’s sake, Rob, could you keep your shit in your own room?”
Roberto gritted his teeth at the grating sound of his roommate’s profanity. The voice was not at all matched by the beauty that stormed in.
“I mean it! If I catch one more sketch in the kitchen or sitting room, I’m knifing some canvas.”When he saw the smudges left on her cheek by the cheap daily paper, it came to him.
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