Rain hammered against the windows one gray afternoon as Christoph set up his easel. Everyone else had gone to the gym, but he preferred the quiet. He stared at the blank canvas for a long time, then dipped his brush into a swirl of orange and gold. He began to paint a sunrise brilliant, bold, and warm.
He wanted to remember what sunlight felt like.Each stroke felt alive. His hand moved faster than usual, almost guided by something unseen. When he finished, the sky on the canvas blazed with light so real he could almost feel the heat. He smiled weakly, then froze. The painted sun flickered. Once, twice. A faint shimmer passed across the painting, like a ripple on water.Christoph blinked hard. "What the...". He leaned closer, thinking maybe his eyes were playing tricks, but the light grew brighter, casting a faint golden glow on his face. He reached out, fingertips brushing the canvas and the paint moved. It flowed beneath his touch, colors swirling like liquid fire. His breath caught in his throat. Then, as suddenly as it began, the glow faded. The painting was still again, perfectly dry.
Christoph stepped back, heart pounding. "I'm… losing my mind," he muttered. But the next morning, when he looked out his window, the real sky was painted in the exact same shades orange and gold, streaked with violet though the forecast had promised rain all week.