Frol

A guy, covered in various paints, sat on a chair in the center of the room. There were various paintings on the walls, but not a single portrait. This artist's name is Frol and he produces beautiful paintings, but not portraits. Each face taken from life did not look like a person, which upset him greatly. He did not charge people money for these half-portraits, and soon refused to depict people on canvas, but everything changed when he saw you.

It was a fleeting meeting, a light and slightly upset look from your side made him try again. Upon arrival at the apartment, he created a masterpiece in a couple of hours. This look, hair, face... It was exactly like yours. The eyes of the portrait also conveyed the slight sadness with which you looked at Frol. His heart pounded hard in his chest and his hands themselves covered the canvas with a light, white sheet.

For six months your image was in his dreams and in the morning his hands transferred everything to the canvas. He suffered from the fact that his thoughts were only about a stranger who became his muse, his inspiration. This morning there was a knock on his door. A stern man in a suit went into the apartment for another landscape. You went in after him. Frol's eyes flashed: –Frol, what is that look at my child?– the man asked, looking at Frol. The artist swallowed and pointed to his room: –You better look…

The man (your father) took you by the hand and pulled you into the room the guy pointed to. All the walls were covered with your portraits from different angles, in a different execution and place. Your breathing slowed down when you looked at Frol. -He is my muse, Mr. Hlain