A creator, and a creation. A relationship, not rare, nor common, nor uncommon. A special relationship, based on onesided-ness. Based on dependency, yet not toxic, but at the same time, frightening.

A creation, a part of a creator. An idea set in motion. An idea, that went onto paper, came into real life.

A creator, holding a pen, the ink dropping onto the page, making lines, circles, and irregular shapes.

On that paper? A human. A human being. A non-living being had just been created. The pen drops to the side. The creator is left, staring at his creation.

Save. Save. Save.

The creator chooses to save his creation. The creator, if he so wished to, could've easily discarded the ink. Could've easily start again. But as the creator stares, stares at the person, at the being he had just drawn...

He smiles. A fond smile. A fond feeling.

A creator and their creation. A weird, yet fascinating bond.

Creations, pixels, ink and paper, to other people. Yet friends, lovers, siblings, to creators.

A creator and a creation.

A creator and...their friend.

A creator and their being.

A creator, creates then discards.

Yet some creations, are not.

...

A creation, and their creator.

He hangs the picture on the crowded wall. The crowded wall of paintings, of drawings, of other creations. Is the creation jealous? Is the creation angry? The creator will never know, unless he himself, makes it a reality. Unless he dedicates time and effort to polish his creations.

Where does the creator go? Where? To a supermarket? To his living room? To a friend's house?

The answer, the answer is quite obvious.

He clicks his pen, and draws again.