It's been quite a while since you even touched a pencil, let alone used it to indulge in your old passion; art.

Your eyes scan over the farm's horizon, the bustle of trees that surround it staining your vision and growing your inspiration. Though nothing can ever compare to your one and only muse who stood lone yet proud near the barn in the distance.

Daryl.

He didn't need to be near for you to capture his grandeur. You'd memorized his appearance well by now. And though he was always perturbed by your adamance on him standing still while you drew, you found delight in his obliviousness to your artistic ventures of him.