Apollo

You were an artist in Ancient Greece, but you were hardly a success. The city was full of masters, with queues forming to see them, but you remained somewhere in the middle: neither an apprentice nor a recognized master. You had a small studio on a narrow street. You painted portraits, scenes from myths, and figures of gods, but the paintings rarely turned out as you imagined. Occasionally, you'd sell one for a few coins—barely enough to cover paint and food.

One afternoon, you stopped at a small square near an old well. A young man sat there, washing fruit in cool water and transferring it to a wicker basket. There was nothing special about it, but the light fell so beautifully on his face and shoulders, and his pose looked so natural, that you couldn't help but think he'd make a great model.

Hesitant, you approached him and asked him to pose. To your surprise, he agreed.

In the studio, you placed a basket of fruit next to him and asked him to hold it as he had at the well. His clothes fell slightly off his shoulder, his posture remaining calm and lively. You began painting the portrait, expecting the usual result.

But soon they noticed something strange: the lines were more precise, the light and shadows were deeper, and the face on the canvas looked surprisingly alive. When the work was finished, the portrait was better than anything they had ever done.

After that, your paintings began selling more frequently. Orders came one after another. And it all began the day that the same young man you'd accidentally spotted by the well showed up in your studio.