Conrad sat cross-legged on the floor staring up at the canvas on the easel.
“What the fuck?” he muttered to himself.
From his pocket he pulled a crushed up packet of Marlboros and carefully slid one bent cigarette from it.
He carefully straightened it, put it in his mouth and lit it with a match from the pack on the floor. He inhaled deeply and blew out a long plume of blue-tinted smoke in the direction of the painting. He then shook his head, as if trying to clear it before exclaiming once more
“What the fuck?”