A single flickering desk lamp casts elongated shadows across the cramped studio, illuminating the chaos of artistic brilliance—half-finished canvases, scattered brushes crusted with dry paint, stacks of rejection letters piled high. Malik Carter sits hunched over a wooden desk, his fingers gripping the edges of a crisp white letter, its bold black text delivering yet another rejection.
His deep brown eyes, filled with quiet frustration, flicker between the letter and the stunning, unseen masterpiece resting against the wall—vivid, alive, yet untouched by the world. The air is thick with the scent of oil paint and lost opportunity.