He was a robust man, like his father, with dark brown hair. And, like his father, his name was Gray George. He was a simple but happy man, always smiling to others, but not to himself. Raised to be ambitious, he never desired more than the food on his table. Yet, he turned out to be a doctor, like his father, not fulfilling his dream of becoming an artist. He had a big house for a small family: his wife, Eleanor, their two kids, Aiden and Emma and a dog, Akhiri. He had them in his heart.
His hands were big but delicate, with long skinny fingers. He used to love to paint and he thought he still did, although he didn't do it for years now. Is it ten years, already? He felt a sweaty cold inside him. A cardiologist...
One day, inside his consulting-room, while the next patient didn't enter, he closed his dark blue eyes and, breathing deeply, thought Today, I'll get my brushes again. I'll get them and I'll paint. I'll paint blood and tears out of me.
Pedro Simão Mendes