Steve looks at him a moment, that nameless feeling he gets sometimes filling his chest, and then murmurs, "As you wish," and loads his brush.
He starts just above Orpheus's ass, blues and greens--the oceans, the rivers, the Continental Divide.
He outlines with mountains--the Appalacians, the rolling hills of the Midwest, the savage bite of the Rockies.
He fills in the plains, windblown and dry, just beginning to recover with soft green fuzz.
He paints a skyline made of the cities he's come to love, from crowded Chicago to mellow Los Angeles, and finally New York, the city he loves and will always call home.
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He starts just above Orpheus's ass, blues and greens--the oceans, the rivers, the Continental Divide.
He outlines with mountains--the Appalacians, the rolling hills of the Midwest, the savage bite of the Rockies.
He fills in the plains, windblown and dry, just beginning to recover with soft green fuzz.
He paints a skyline made of the cities he's come to love, from crowded Chicago to mellow Los Angeles, and finally New York, the city he loves and will always call home.