The short ride from the living room to the master bedroom felt like it took ages, and what was worse was the amount of steps I had to take just to make sure that I would reach the master bedroom well in time.
As we walked, I remembered each and every painting Neil had loving made of me – many of them were purely out of his memory - especially the ones in which I was, sort of, naked. I sighed, remembering the times when he used to stare at me so intensely, so lovingly, that I used to think that his gaze was enough to make my skin burn and tingle with delight. Whenever I asked him the reason for looking at me that way, he used to say that he was memorizing things for his painting.
Those were the times, when things were either very lovey-dovey, mushy-gushy, or extremely s****l between us.
