The cold and silent night was determined to remind me of the situation I was in. The creativity of all humanity had vanished.

Blank canvases and total silence were all that could be found in the houses, streets and avenues. There was no music, no art. Only desolation.

As an artist I have a hole in my soul. Sitting in front of a blank sheet of paper and no ideas coming is really stormy.

One morning I woke up with the hope of being able to do something on my new canvas, I had bought it a few months ago but I had not had the necessary ideas to work my magic and let the strokes come out and make my work of art.

A small sheet of paper with this text on it came flying in the wind and I caught it between my fingers. I read it and realized it was the page of a diary. I looked up and several of these pages were falling. I stopped to continue collecting them.

I never understood what happened to us? What did we do wrong? Why the plant is becoming colorless and joyless. I don't know what is happening but I want it to stop.

They were heartbreaking words. I quickly looked up at the top floor apartment of the old building on the corner and remembered that on the top floor lived a young painter who had his studio there. I had just bought a coffee and croissant at the coffee shop downstairs in that building and when I looked up I saw the boy's feet dangling from the ledge.

I ran like crazy. Hot coffee in one hand and pages of an artist's lament in the other. I couldn't wait for the elevator, so I ran up all the stairs. It was 6 floors, by the time I got to the top I was exhausted.

I opened the sliding door and there were all the artist's old paintings covered with white sheets and on the easel a completely white canvas.

I ran to the window and tripped. I fell on some canvases that were piled on the floor. I quickly got up and saw the boy. I started talking to him and asking him to come back inside the house. The boy seemed determined to jump.

I told him I had read his notes and wanted to help him regain his inspiration. Drenched in tears he turned to look at me and held out his hand. I helped him inside and just as he put his feet in we went to the floor and fell among brushes, paints and the canvases I had thrown out earlier.

The young man wiped his tears and asked me to explain to him what was this beauty?

I didn't understand what he was asking. I thought he was crazy from the look on his face but I finally saw that he was referring to one of the canvases on the floor.

He picked up the canvas and showed me what was dazzling him.

-It's just a coffee stain. I'm sorry I spilled it by accident.

Damn it! Why didn't I think of that before? - said the artist with those eyes of anger and madness, as he hung the stained canvas on the easel.

This is beautiful. You just gave me a new source of inspiration. I will surely create wonders with your idea. - The boy said to me as he kissed my hand.

He began to draw strokes in all directions and I went back down to the cafeteria, this time by the elevator very calmly. I bought 2 espressos and cookies to accompany the artist in his work. He loved the taste of the coffee as he painted.

We said goodbye and he told me that I should show everyone this work of art that I and my wonderful coffee inspired him. We met the next day at the coffee shop downstairs.

I felt that night went by slowly. The next day I went to the coffee shop and it was packed with people. Several of the great painter's works were on display, but the most important was the one he did from the coffee stain I made on his canvas.

That exhibition was wonderful. People smiled, artists came to feel inspired. The aroma of coffee could be felt all over the streets of the city. The artist was there. He smiled, asked for a round of applause for me for being his muse and invited me for coffee.

That was how I met the love of my life. That's how a love story began and humanity regained its artistic inspiration. Melodies and colors returned and all because of a coffee stain.

End