Jack
My hands are shaking as I look at the painting in front of me. I can't even fathom that he would do something so beautiful. The room is dark but I can't see the colours on the canvas so clearly.
I feel his hands on my back, slowly guiding me around, "You can touch it," he says "I know you want to."
I reach out and put my hand on the canvas. The paint is dry but still soft to touch and the texture feels amazing under my fingertips. I run my hand down the painting, my eyes following the path that my hand is taking. The painting is in front of me and I take it all in. The colours, the shapes, the details.
