He painted, transforming the time worn concrete wall into a work of art. He never knew what would appear, the can always knew what to do.
The sun set but the painting continued. In the wee hours of morning, he fell asleep, empty can in hand. For the first time he couldn't see the outcome but he knew he'd wake and feel the joy.
He woke and stared at the wall. A black wall...that was all he saw. Where were the colors? He turned, everywhere he looked was black. All the color was painted out of him. He was blind.
100 words
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