I walked into the painting, pushing the blues and reds and yellows and combinations thereof into different directions. I heard them swoosh back into place as I passed. After just a few minutes, I was so far into the painting I couldn't see the other side clearly anymore. The deeper I got into it, the less the outer world really mattered.

I sat down next to a brightly colored tree and took a little nap. It's hard work getting through all the layers of a painting. There were some half-finished rocks around me, apparently abandoned for other visuals as the evolution of the painting occurred. I found some misshapen frogs who couldn't croak and lizards with no back feet. They didn't realize anything was wrong with their appearance or lives, but I knew better.

Leaves painted all the colors of the rainbow fell on me as a breeze moved the tree I was under. It was all very beautiful. I thought I could've stayed there for quite a while, but I knew my rest was only temporary. I had to move on and explore. I had to know more, see more, understand the nature of the unnatural world I was playing in.

When I came upon a small blue pond on the edge of a very green wood, I noticed a beautiful, naked, young woman swimming. She didn't notice me for a few minutes, but when she did, she smiled.

"Hi. You're different," she said and began to walk toward the shore.

"I've never been here before," I said. "I'm just exploring today, trying to see what I can see."

"Do you like what you see?" she asked, almost fully out of the water now. Unlike the frogs and lizards, the artist paid attention to the detail of this young woman.

I didn't really answer so much as gather her up in my arms and lead her a few steps away from the water. We had many conversations without words as the rest of the day went by. It was nearly sunset before either of us said anything intelligible out loud.

"I wish I could take you home with me," I said.

"I can't leave," she said. "If I tried to leave, my entire world would collapse around me. I can't live in the world you come from."

I knew this, because of the nature of the world I was in. Everything seemed to be real, like me, but it wasn't stable. And it wouldn't hold outside of the frame. Of course, this didn't stop me from planning on coming back to this sanctuary as much as possible.

And so I did. Days lead to weeks, which stretched into a month without thinking much about it at all. She, who had no name, and me, together. It seemed more natural and real than anything I'd done before. I neglected a lot of the real world when I was there. It was a heavenly retreat.

One day, she wondered about all the time I was spending with her. "Why don't you find a girl who can be with you all the time--in your real world?"

"It's much easier to come here and see you. If I had to deal with a girl in the real world, we'd never escape reality. Reality doesn't matter here."

She smiled and seemed to understand what I was saying.

The next day, I went to see her after I got home from work. When I got to the pond, I saw she wasn't alone. There was another man--a man of her kind--with her. They were sitting on the edge of the pond, talking. She waved when she saw me, and I walked over next to them.

The man silently shook my hand and then walked away. The girl indicated I should sit.

"Where's he from?"

"The same place I'm from. We've known each other almost since we began. I remember, while I was only half-painted, when his outline began to get filled in. Other than you, we've never known any one else who could talk."

"But I've never seen him before," I said, confused.

"He always stayed away when you came to see me. We can always tell when someone comes into our world. It makes ripples across almost everything. But I can't be with you anymore. I'm no good for you, and you're no good for me. We're of a different kind. And he is just like me."

"Do you love him?"

"Don't ask questions you don't want to hear the answers to," she said quickly. "Everyone has to live their life."

When I got back from the painting that night, I went to the bathroom to wash off the paint that always got stuck to me during my painted adventures. On my cheek, there was a kiss from the girl. I tried to wash off her lips, but couldn't get them all the way off.

I still have a mark on my cheek to remember the girl I never really had in the first place.

Matt Worley hasn't been inside a painting for a while now.