One canvas, two canvases,

One canvas, two canvases, three canvases, four canvases,

Two canvases, four canvases, six canvases, eight canvases, distorted canvases.

She's extremely well-off, but compared to god, she's a commoner.

Is being a commoner the reason why she can't paint this goddess? It hurts her head, but mostly her heart, thinking about it.

The never-ending silence, or what she thought was never-ending, was interrupted by the ringing of a phone call. Her thumb hovered over the end call button until she realized who it was from.

Their hands now shaky, she tells herself she's fine.

She's fine.

She's most definitely fine.

She's most definitely not fine.

Anyway, it's rude to keep a god waiting.

She answers the phone call, instead of hanging up.

"I just wanted to hear your voice again."

Ah.

"What's your favorite color?" She bursts out loud.

It was rude to talk to a goddess without any greeting first.

They apologize, or at least try to, but before she had a chance, the goddess says, always in the soft voice, the voice reserved for the commoner, and only the lowly commoner, god says, "Violet." The goddess says that so casually.

Of course, that was her color. Of course, why didn't she think of that color?

"Oh... Thank you so much."

Thank you so much, thank you so very much.

Without even thinking, the commoner spilled out words of the utmost genuine gratitude. The goddess let out a chuckle in response.

The goddesses' laughter, her kindness, it shall always be cherished. It should be cherished and savored, so that's what the commoner must do. That's the bare minimum of what the commoner must do.