a painting of a sunset over a mountain range

### **The Painted Sky** It was a cool autumn evening when Lily first saw the painting. She was walking home from the library, her arms full of books, when a small, old shop caught her eye. It wasn’t there the day before—or at least, she didn’t remember it. The sign above the door read simply, *“The Painted Sky”*. Curiosity tugged at her, so she stepped inside. The moment she entered, the smell of oil paints and fresh canvas filled her senses. The shop was dimly lit, with thick curtains hanging over the windows. The walls were lined with framed artwork—landscapes, portraits, abstract designs—but one painting in particular caught her eye. It was of a vast, open sky at sunset, the kind of sky that looked too perfect to be real. The colors bled into each other, oranges, purples, pinks, and blues swirling together in an impossible blend. The horizon seemed to stretch on forever, as if the artist had captured a moment from a dream. Lily stood there, mesmerized. She couldn’t explain it, but there was something