The Painting


She felt the breeze, like the cold needle, piercing her, it was happening again the memories were coming back and she knew sooner or later she will be sitting in some dark corner of the apartment. But right now even with these chill of breezes, it felt good, she felt as if this time she can enjoy even in the cold.

Getting up from the bed in the dark of solitary and going towards the balcony, or say the place where she spent one of the best nights of her life a few hours ago. A feeling of lure in his arms, so soft touches, it was all few hours ago when she decided that she would surrender to him, breaking out everything locked in her and presenting before him without any fallacy.

Turning around towards the bed noticing a small piece shining on the farther corner, there is a slight hint of happiness on her face. She replays the moment when she entered the room and it was full of small colorful lights and those shining small stripes paper forming their own layer on the floor and all the walls and ceiling were covered in those glowing stickers which she could now see shining in this dark night. Strange or more like weird was all this for her as the last time, she remembers, it was fine to cry herself to sleep in some dark corner of the floor. The same happened to her every single time. Right now it was something very alike just more pleasant to her.

She now had all the required emotions and also this new zeal to pick up that brush and paint again because of what he made of the night for her. Before going all in for several hours, she took time to remember the time when one of these brushes were put in her hand that how from the day she began to draw she now paints her soul onto these canvases, well not her complete soul but whatever was left within her.

Going for the first stroke, she could hear the bell ringing but this time she ran with ecstasy to open the door for the boy who relentlessly worked to break the walls around her heart and was successful in doing so, he is going to get the best prize of his life, she thought, if she had her way with him. Seeing one last time in the mirror she went to open the door.


3 thoughts on “The Painting

  1. Francis Skafidas says:

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