Heartbeat Echoes Back Silence

It's like every time I think of that night, my heart beats just a little faster. There was this guy, an artist too, we connected over our love for color and stories trapped inside frames. One day, in his studio after hours, the walls closed around us like they did our secret. A few weeks passed, whispers turned into silences, knowing it would never last but feeling something deeper each time he reached out, fingers trailing along canvases where our faces had been painted over again and again. Maybe I just needed a muse outside my usual muses? Or was there more to the silence than meets the eye?