Paintbrush

Art was everywhere.

In people, in hearts, and in souls. But he preferred it on walls — street walls.

With one kind of art blasting in his ears, he stared at another in front of him.

It was a painting of a man and a woman standing in front of each other, nude, with a bouquet of flowers as heads and watering cans in their hands as they held it above each other.

It was incredibly inspiring and different than most street art. It had a deeper meaning, which was what he loved about art in the first place.

He understood the masterpiece as if it spoke to him.

"Relationships are based on helping each other grow. Together," he whispered to himself.

A smile spread across his face. The alley, which was once dull, was now brightened by not only the art, but the message.

His eyes lowered to the small signature in the corner.

"P.B?" he echoed as he furrowed his eyebrows at the unusual name. He had been all over the city, yet he never noticed any art with that particular signature.

But he hoped the masterpiece was simply the beginning of the mysterious artist.