Point Of No Return

The room, the surroundings, the day, time, nothing existed, nothing mattered to Mrityunjay. Shivani sat, her eyes cast down, with a somber expression almost as if she was a sculpture, moulded to perfection for him, by the creator of the universe. He studied her face, her features, wondering how he would capture all this beauty on his canvas. He looked at the brushes in the stand. No, for what he was attempting to create, these brushes were inadequate. He picked up a tube of crimson and splashed the paint on to his palm.