Eleventh
535 Words
Her hands are almost like the canvas in front of her, filled with variegated dried paint. And it looks as if her painting have come to life, her hand blends in the river of her homeland, and it fits. She’s never looked at it this way, and like a train, an idea has hit her. Ever since coming to New York, all she has done was only ever to improve her technique, keeping on painting the same pieces from the same inspiration, to practice and practice and practice.
And she has not yet tried something new. Except now.
She slowly removed her clothes, every piece. In front of a mirror, she doesn’t see only a body, but a canvas. At that moment, her imagination had run wild and she could feel excitement in every bones- her favorite feeling.
Clay quickly dresses up in a casual black sweater and denim shorts, and reaches for the set of keys dangling from the front door.
She peeks at her studio apartment for a moment, contemplating the things to buy. She smiles, satisfied- she’s about to turn the place crazy.
-
The blonde took her time getting all the materials; fabric, paint, and tools, that she needed for her new project. Flourescent paint has caught her attention as well, not setting any limitations to the ideas that flows naturally to her. And for it to work, she brought blacklight bulbs, which emits the UV light that makes fluorescent paint glow.
Let’s say she lost herself to shopping so much, feeling the texture quality of different cotton duck, that when she turned around-
“ah s**t!” was the first thing she said, startled when a tall person was standing behind her.
“You’re jumpy.” Deep familiar voice, came from the tall man.
Now that made her look up. Guess who it was… Just when she thought her day could only get better, of course there needs something or someone to ruin it.
And you’re an asshole, she thought immediately, “what are you doing here?”
“Buying,” he says like it was obvious, and raises one of his thick perfectly formed eyebrows at her, that makes her jealous for a second.
She asks, dislike written all over her face as she stares up at him, “and why are you standing behind me?”
The dark haired man bends down at her, tilts his face slightly to be on eye level with her, green eyes shining, and says, “you’re blocking my way.”
He switches his eyes from hers to the sets of cotton duck fabric behind that she was trying to choose from earlier.
The action made her step aside, feeling the invasion of space uncomfortable.
“Don’t you have slaves to go shopping for you?” she snarks, her voice laced with wrath. Not quite close to forgiving.
He turns his head back towards her, and smiles, “it’s their day off.” He states, before getting a cotton duck fabric out from the rack, and turning around indifferently.
She doesn’t know if he was kidding as his eyes were teasing, but his voice sounded serious. Either way frustrates her.
What an asshole.
- Writer
