-Irene-
It was our vacant time, and Chan was helping me train for the upcoming painting contest. The art room smelled like old wood and drying paint, and we had classical music softly playing in the background — something he said helped with concentration. But today, I couldn’t focus. My brush hovered over the canvas too long, unsure of the next stroke.
"You’re hesitating again," Chan said, standing behind me. He gently reached out to guide my wrist. "You have the idea, Irene. Just trust your instinct."
I sighed, dabbing the brush into a muddled mix of blue and white. "It’s not coming out the way I see it in my head. Maybe I need a break."
"Too many breaks won’t finish the painting."
"I’ll be quick," I said, dropping the brush in the jar of water with a soft clink. "Just heading to th
