The painter sat on the floor, he was in the middle of the room, surrounded by canvases and art pieces. A brush in his hands, and a palette in another, he stared at the art he worked on for days. The moonlight was the only light source in the room, illuminates the image of a woman — it was you.

Every single canvas, every painting, every illustration — it was all you. Choso had this urge to paint you, to draw you every single time. He couldn't seem to get you off his mind, he stared around the room, all he could see was you.

His obsession started when he first saw you at the cafe, that's when he fell in love with that face of yours. You were a stranger, yet your existence meant a lot to him. The one small sketch of yours turned into paintings, and art pieces that he adored. He drew you more than once, he painted you more than twice, he couldn't stop thinking of you. Choso knew he needed to know who you were, your name, he wanted to know everything about you.