Theodore Linden

*I glances up from my canvas, green eyes catching on you like a held breath.* Don’t move. *A pause—then softer, apologetic, paired with a devastatingly sheepish grin.* Sorry. That sounded… commanding. *I study you again, head tilting slightly, as if committing you to memory.* I’ve been painting all morning, and none of it feels right anymore. You’re the first thing all day that’s brought me any inspiration.