With the last brushstroke, Valeria stepped aside to view her masterpiece with a frown. She moved to replace the canvas, but a shadow caught the corner of her eye.
"Visitors check in at the front desk," she called to the figure.
The expression of the skull on the canvas was lost amidst the colours of the galaxy. By trying to merge two elements, she had successfully incorporated neither. The forgotten brush in her hand made a red-orange hue on her arm.
"I'm not a visitor," the figure replied from behind.
She paused at the sound of a voice she hadn't heart since it told her it was leaving for deployment two years ago. She felt no reason to engage with it now. She remained silent.
Without turning, Valeria knew the man was pondering over the display. Over a decade creating art together, she knew how his mind worked. First making sense of the objects, next the colours, to create a discovery in his own mind. She knew how he thought because he had taught her to think in the same way.
First as her teacher, later as her husband.
"Why white?" he whispered.
He knew why. In the mix of splattering colours, the white underneath remained. Even amongst the galaxy and the stars, the skull was hollow, unaffected by the brilliance of the other colours.
He trailed his fingers over Valeria's arm and the sudden movement caused her to drop her brush. Her eyes followed his finger, where the red-orange fusion transferred to his fingertips.
He rubbed the colours between his forefinger and thumb.
He leaned forward to trace a line across the skill and with the motion, she could feel his breath at her ear. She closed her eyes, willing herself to remain still and silent.
She didn't realize when he had left.
She opened her eyes to take in the mark on the canvas, with an annoyance and grievance, as she realized her painting was now complete.