Sylvan Raines stood in the back of the studio looking at a blank canvas. She was wearing a large smock over her jeans and t-shirt. Her hair was pulled back. The studio was neatly organized for an artist. Her work space always had to be neat like that. If her studio was cluttered, her art would be too, she said. The canvas was blank and it seemed to be like a new sponge, waiting to soak the colors in. Sylvan waited though. She knew this feeling was ripening inside of her. It kept pushing like a child, ready to be born but, not quite.

She heard the front door open. She sighed and walked out.

A man stood there, looking at the artwork. It was the man from the festival. His name was Warner.

"Hello?" she asked. "Can I help you?"

"Good morning," he said. "I don't know if you remember me."

"Warner, right?" she said, holding out her hand.

"Yes," he said, shaking her hand.

"Good to see you," she told him.

"I um, well... I was passing by and I wanted to stop in," he told her.

"Well I'm glad you did. Is there anything you are interested in?"

"Well..." he said looking around.

"Go ahead and look," she told him. "There's a lot here."

"Which are your pieces?" he asked.

She pointed out a few on one wall and a couple of shelves. "These are mine."

"What's this one?" he asked.

"Oh that," she said. He was pointing to a painting sitting against the wall.

"That's my feeble attempt at something more concrete."

It was a painting of an old gate on a hill with strange pillars and a stone wall.

"Is that from somewhere around here?" he asked.

"All Hallows Hill," she told him. "It's in the park in Zephyr, or rather at the end of it."

"You did a good job," he said. "But I didn't think they let people go up there."

"They don't. I used an old photo from the museum as inspiration."

"I see, well it's really good."

"Yeah," she said, standing next to him. "It's okay."

"It's amazing," he told her. "I'll buy it."

"You will?" she said, surprised.

"On one condition," he said.

She looked at him funny. "What?"

"Go to dinner with me," he told her.

Sylvan backed up against the wall hard. A couple of paintings shifted and almost fell. Her eyes were wide.

Warner looked at the paintings that shifted and then back at her, questioningly.

"I'm sorry," she said. "It's just that well, I don't get asked out much."

"So take me up on it then," he said smiling. "At the very least, you'll sell a painting. And I really do want it."

She smiled and nodded, blushing. "Okay then, why not?"