She woke up to the crisp cold air of a winters morning which bit at the bare skin on her face and arms. Pulling in all loose limbs to the confines of the unnaturally warm duvet. Turning to her right she discovered the reason for her waking. Her boyfriend, a very broad and muscular man was sprawled out across three quarters of the bed, mouth wide open and snoring so loud that even after she had vacated the bedroom and sleepily shuffled downstairs, she could still hear him snoring away.
The New house seemed huge with the lack of furniture which would usually clutter people's living rooms and hallways. The walls were completely blank ... a blank canvas.
What more could anyone want. Four large walls of white to do with as she pleased...complete artistic freedom.
She would first start with the back wall, the one which would be seen first upon entering the room. Hovering on top of a ladder with paintbrushes protruding from various crevices between body parts; behind ears, under arms hanging out of her mouth. But the most important brush hovered inches from the clean white wall, black paint coating the tip and only a very short distance from marking the beautiful sea of white. Here she stood, a top the ladder, hovering over the wall for a little more than an hour, frozen solid. So many creative images flowed through her mind in that hour, but which one should she choose?
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