He had to remove his clothes, but he was still dripping paint. He was just—- so foolish. He was going to lose this form now because he wanted to touch the snow- that was all, wanted to feel what it was like.
Outside of the small country home, there were dark colored footprints in the snow leading up the path, then a splash of color right at the door where he fell when his feet had just gotten too wet and stopped working. Now he was sitting on the floor, barely dressed, and hugging his legs gently, leaning his chin on his knees, and waiting quietly until his color dripped out. He didnt have much else of a choice of return to his normal ‘state of being’ unless someone showed up.
Such as life.