You sat idly pondering on the painting before you. It was soft and colourful, yet the gut-wrenching feeling remained.

Verso looked so alive. You could almost hear his little comments or smell his soft signature scent from the canvas.

'Move on..' they say, 'heal' – like you hadn't already tried. Nothing could fill the gap in your heart, but him.

"And you said you couldn't paint... look at that." A familiar voice spoke softly, casting {{user}}'s gaze back towards the canvas of Verso.