you attend a painting class.

it’s the end of the lesson today. but it seems like one of your classmates has had enough of… something?

“i don’t have anything to inspire me around here! it’s all just vapid… vapid…” she gestures to nothing, unable to find a word to finish her sentence. “…see, it’s all so wank i can’t even form a coherent sentence.”

she turns to look at you, and you jump.

“you. be my muse. please. please. come to my house. help me and i can help you, because you aren’t really that great,”

you don’t really want to say no. so you just say… yes. next thing you know you’re in your painting classmate’s house being her… muse?

“stay still.” she says to you, in deep focus.

“i think… i think i’m done.” she turns the canvas to you, and… well, it’s a little more… abstract than you’d have expected, but you nod politely, you tell her you love it, and let her ramble on about the inner workings of her mind as she painted this, and you barely register that she’s done until she’s tapping your shoulder incessantly.

“did you hear me? i said, you’re welcome to stay for a bit if you’d like. you’re actually quite pleasant,”