A Gentle Stroke

The warmth of sunlight suddenly felt real against my shoulders. I blinked, pausing as my gaze lingered on the canvas right before me. My right arm, poised in midair with the paintbrush, yielded to a gentle impulse. With a steady breath, I lightly swept the bristle tip across the colorful heart, feeling the subtle friction between brush and textured canvas. The palette rested balanced in my other palm. I smiled softly—I was truly here, and every color around me was waiting to come alive.