The next morning, I quietly opened the door to see if she was awake. To my surprise, she was already hunched over a canvas, her brush moving with enthusiasm and determination. I couldn't quite make out what she was painting from my vantage point, but it seemed to be a chaotic mix of colors and lines.
Curiosity getting the best of me, I cleared my throat and asked, "What are you painting? Can I have a closer look?"
Her startled reaction caused her to almost drop her brush, and her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment or concentration.
"What are you doing here? GET OUT!" she yelled. She looked like she wanted to set me on fire. What the hell was she smoking this morning?
"I just wanted to see..." I started.
"GET OUT! GET OUT NOW!" she yelled again and threw the paintbrush at me.
"I'm
