The artist and his muse

III

"Owh..."

The smoker muttered as he saw the first one of many lighting strikes fill the sky for a second.

Half stepped on cigarettes on the wooden floor, an empty cup still reminiscent of the coffee it had just minutes ago, an easel, a canvas, a piece...

"If it's a strong one you're staying here with me. There's no way you are spending the night where you normally do, not in this weather at least."

"Mh. Can I take another break? Then we will figure out everything else..."

"Just rest now. I will give you your money by morning."

"Mhm... Is there anything else you require from me? To like, help the painting improve."

The muse started to put his clothes back on...

"I do, actually. When you are ready to rest, sit atop the bed."

"Sure..."

And he was fully clothed. A white tank top and some black jeans now fitted around his body.

"Do you know about Monique and the prisoner?"

"The artist, the one in jail? Yes, of course. A man sentenced to a whole life in prison for a double murder has a deal with a guard for her to be his muse. It has made it to the newspaper."

"Yeah, them. So, this man, he affirms that by feeling his model he gets a better grasp on her features."

"...?"

"Will you let me?"

A strange silence filled the room for a second, up until the muse replied.

"If you let me be the one posing for the next painting, a better one."

"You can have that."

"Then I accept."

"Then you accept, and I commit to pour my soul into this next piece."