Goodnight, Moon!

The wind in the Paris night blew lightly into the living room, but it was strong enough to disconcert the papers of scribbles and nonsensical doodles that sat on the coffee table. She was sound asleep, lying in the narrow space between the maroon loveseat and the coffee table. The rattling of the metal could be heard from the doorway as her cousin made his way into the small, shared apartment. His hands were full of groceries and he almost yelled for aid before seeing the moonlight hitting his little cousin's peaceful face. He chuckled and shook his head to himself. "What a kid."

It has always been like this. She always had someone looking after her as she freely and carelessly explored the wonders in her mind and the world. Oblivious to the fact that, one day, there might be no one to fall back on, she dreams and dreams and dreams. She shares an apartment with her older cousin, Lin, in Paris. He is an aspiring artist seeking a way out into the artistic world and she's kind of just there in the gray void with her chaotic beauty.

Wen Sun is a tree that sways with the storm. She is the splatter of paint that enhances the excitement of an art piece. She is the last tiny piece of cherry blossom that falls slowly from the sky of pink stars. Though she may not be the most invigorating person to meet, her mind is a flexible racing form and art is her outlook.

Zachary Moon is that first stroke on a blank canvas, something so harsh by itself in an empty void. But really, he falls as easily as much as the next person does. Nothing has ever made him feel as content as art does. Although he does enjoy watching rookies wince under his brisk comments, it's not that he, himself, is an artist anyway.

He was the great Vincent Van Gogh.
And she was his starry night.