Perhaps the impression the real person had made on him was so deep that the man drew without a second thought.
The fluid feeling left him a little intoxicated.
He was also pleased with how complete the painting looked.
This painting would definitely make the editor think more highly of his artistic skills.
That kind person was simply his muse.
After taking the day off, the man's excitement pushed his headache to the back of his mind.
Sitting at his desk, he racked his brain, trying to recall every little thing the kind person had done the day before.
But because he'd been drunk, his memories of the previous night were already a little hazy.
He gave his head a hard rap.
In the end, he painted the last thing he'd seen—or at least, what he wasn't sure had really happened.
The kind person reached out, palm open, with a neatly folded square of paper resting on it.
The blue-green snake opened its mouth.
Its ferocious maw was exaggerated, like something out of an animated film, yet it seemed to match what he'd glimpsed in the haze the day before.
Its sharp fangs gleamed with a bone-white chill.
The blue-green snake struck an extremely aggressive pose.
Yet the lowered brows and eyes of the hand's owner somehow revealed a trace of barely perceptible gentleness.
But the stark contrast between her pure white eyes and pitch-black skin made her seem somewhat eerie and unsettling.
The man sent a scan of the painting to the editor who had contacted him earlier.
Then he went to the hospital.
Since he'd taken sick leave, he needed some kind of proof, after all.
Besides, he hadn't noticed while he was completely absorbed in painting, but now that he'd relaxed, his head hurt so