Rab glanced back at his canvas, noticing the streak of red that now marred the otherwise drab sky.
"Oh, I didn't even see it." He pulled out his brush, a look of concentration crossing his face, and began painting around it with orange, violet, and dark blue. He almost seemed like a different person when he painted, intense and focused, with twinkling eyes and hint of a smile playing around the edges of his mouth.
He finished in twelve quick strokes, turning the ugly streak into a shooting star.
"There," he smiled, satisfied. "It's better this way, I think. More hopefull." He had nearly forgotten Riona was there, talking more to himself than to anyone else.