one - watercolors
Red paint.
It splattered in the canvas, the paintbrush moving with faint hesitation as she observed the brilliantly bright hair of the girl before her. Her palette spilled a little, and she saw the redhead struggle to not laugh as it sprayed against her faded jeans, and she allowed herself a little smile.
Yellow paint.
It contrasted smoothly against the crimson of the paper, messily portraying the dark jumper that the girl had on, and she looked snug with the amount of heat that it provided, making the painter look at her with what could only be described as adoration. She looked like a freshly painted sunflower of Van Gogh’s, and the painter could feel herself getting immersed in the brightness that she radiated.
Blue paint.
The murky color grew lighter as it mixed with the white that was in the corner of her palette, and she smiled at the pastel aura that it exuded. The painter used it to accentuate the color of the frayed jeans, and almost found herself grinning with how perfectly it described the cloth, making the red haired beauty stare at her with an odd look.
Black paint.
It hummed below the blue color, easily distinguishable in the sea of white, curving into the shape of heels, high enough to look as though they would be able to stab someone. The painter found herself frowning with the way the color resembled her hair, she didn’t want anything related to her associate with the sunshiny loveliness of the girl before her. So she mixed a little white in it, transforming it into a dark grey that made her sigh in satisfaction.
And then it was done.
The painter’s eyes lit up as the girl looked at the canvas with barely hidden approval and happiness radiating off of her, so much that it made the painter unable to look away from her emerald eyes. Not even when those eyes stared right back at her.
The girl smiled, “Would you like to go for some coffee?”
The street teemed with vibrant life, people passing them by with no regard for the event that was happening. And it was a wonder the world didn’t stop spinning right there, for the painter did something that she never thought she would do in a million years.
She nodded.
***
