Chapter 95: Creative Block

The paintbrush quivered in Olivia's hand, inches from the canvas. A moment that, once upon a time, was charged with electric anticipation—that time when mind was abuzz with colors and forms outpouring onto the pristine white. Now, there was an echoing vastness of nothingness. She let the brush drop, and a single cerulean tear hit the palette. It was the most color she had produced in weeks. "This is ridiculous," Olivia muttered, throwing the brush back. It clattered into the sink and left a blue smear on the porcelain. She eyed it and thought that maybe that was about as close as she was going to get to art today. What had previously been her sanctuary, a studio, now appears as a mausoleum. Unfinished canvases lined the walls—their half-formed images seemed to speak vividly of a creativity that had, at one time, coursed through her very veins. Now, it seemed, her imagination had even turned in on her: another victim to disease. Olivia slumped back onto the stool, her body collapsin