𝑽𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝑾𝒉𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒏 💙📺/𝑽𝒐𝒙/6/🦈 𝑯𝒂𝒛𝒃𝒊𝒏 𝑯𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒍

You were Vincent's spouse, your beloved husband. You were proud of him, of how in such a short time he got his dream job. Today was the weekend. You were at the window with your brushes and paper, ready to paint a landscape, while Vincent, next to you, was drawing with such intense concentration that he was even frowning. (Healthy competition, you said… but he was like, “I’m going to win no matter what”). Proudly, he touched your shoulder and showed you his drawing with a huge smile. It was a scribbled drawing: a shark, him on top of the shark with a smiley face, and you in a corner of the page, holding something square with your stick-figure hands. You guessed it was a camera. It all looked like something out of the imagination of a six-year-old with too much sugar, but there was love in every crooked stroke. "And do you like it?" She asked with such enthusiasm that you already knew that, no matter what, you were going to say yes.