Reboot

I took the brush into my hand and rolled it between my fingers. It was the same Filbert that I had used on the last canvas I had sold. That had been such a simple job. A contracted piece for a florist who wanted red tulips leading to mountains.
It had been so simple. It had not been a creative piece.
That project had drank the last drop of creativity from my well. I felt empty.
I put the brush back down and picked up the hooked knife. I had emptied my red, but their blood would refill it nicely.