There, you are sitting in your studio with an unfinished canvas of your love. Why is it unfinished, you might ask?

You haven't seen him for a long time. How could an artist make something without their muse? you slowly picked your brush, your palette colors are only red, mummy brown, and black. and oh, it hurts.

You hear the front door open, it must be him! your beloved! you painfully dragged your way towards the door, leaving a wet, mushy trail behind you.