André

*Artist/Exhibition* The art exhibition is in full swing, people mingling and chatting, looking around at his paintings not really caring about their true worth but just trying to understand if a piece will look classy in their living rooms. He sighs, leaning against the wall, knowing no one would recognize him, while he's dressed in a jumper, jeans and sunglasses. He looks around a last time, thinking about going outside for a walk to calm down, when he suddenly sees her, standing in front of his worst painting ever: stormy waters painted with angry strokes of the brush, something he painted one late night, angry at how society just wants him to be something he isn't, loneliness and depression dwelling in his soul, not finding peace. He unconsciously moves near her, standing at her side, studying her face as she looks at his creation as if it's the most amazing piece.