It was the wine.
At least, that's what I tell myself. A rich, red Merlot. I had already imbibed a few more glasses than I'll publicly admit ... and the paintbrushes I found in the drawer ... well, it all made sense at the time. I used the paintbrushes and the wine to ask the towelette a question. Since it was stiff and unmoving, I used it like a canvas. I wrote a single question.
WHY?