Emir dipped the round head of his long paintbrush into the colour plate, twirling it until the tip was soaked in crimson. He traced the line of the rose petals on the canvas and stopped midway, his gaze shifting between the actual vase of roses placed on the table a meter away and the one in his painting. His hand began to tremble. He looked back and forth, clutching the brush tight in his palm and the tip began to shake, adding an unintended dot of red to the roses. He growled and snapped the brush into two, ripping the canvas off the stand. He tossed the torn canvas aside, right next to a pile of others that suffered the same fate. He threw the colour plate to the ground, watching the paint splash and the plate c***k. A few drops splattered onto his pants but he ignored it. He proceeded
