Paint, she said, as she removed her clothing and lay vulnerable before him. *Yes, he said and began using a small nimble paint brush. The feeling was relaxing as he delicately brushed her skin with vibrant colours. What will it be?, she asked. He answered, A story. But a story of what?, she demanded. He set down the soft bristles and told her he had finished. It was a short story he explained. She looked down to examine the art only to find herself fading away. She was alone and the artist was gone.