“Take care, Harry! There’s a shredder in there.”
He stepped back in a reflex move.
“Don’t worry about your limbs. It shreds egos.”
“When will you stop spinning stories?”
“I already did. Might throw away the paints and brushes too…”
“I come here to accept defeat. I can’t replicate the original artist.”
“Hmmm… something like those scientists trying to make synthetic butter in the labs, with less calories.”
An awkward silence followed. But Harry was not willing to let go.
“Sally, why don’t you create something better on your canvas, and let the original get inspired by you?”