The Art Of Us

1 • The Ending

A skyhigh apartment with a view over New York City in the middle of Manhattan could be enough for someone to wake up happy and think about all that one has. But if you were feeling like you were stuck between those walls, it was more like a prison, instead of heaven.

It felt that way for FP Jones. Most people would say he had it all. He lived in the most expensive neighborhood of one of the most expensive cities in the world, he had made it as an artist, had thousands of fans who followed his life work called Southside Comics and he had a beautiful wife. What more does one want?

But if he was being honest with himself, Southside Comics, the comic book series he had been creating for the past ten years, had been both his dream and nightmare at the same time.

It had all started when he was still a young teenager. He was poor, and life at Sunnyside was anything but easy. It was always a question if they would even have something to eat at night, or whether this would be their last week with a roof above their head. Fortunately there was one escape FP always had: drawing.

He had never been good with words, and therefore chose to do the one thing that helped him express himself. Creating visuals instead of having to talk about what he felt. His life was being turned into a comic book, the same ones he used to read as a kid. However, his stories didn't have a hero, just raw honesty.

It wasn't until his wife, Gladys Jones, had helped him make his work successful. Barely ten years ago his very first comic book was released and it had been a success ever since.

FP knew he should be happy, but he just simply wasn't. In fact, he couldn't even remember the last time he was happy.

There was one person who made it all a bit bearable— his best friend Hermione Gomez. Without her, he wouldn't have anyone to rant to and nobody would have his back. She was a lifesaver, the one to keep him afloat.

She lived in the same building he did, and they never hesitated to stop by each other's place. It made them both feel less lonely.

That afternoon, they were at her apartment, both with a glass of red wine in their hands. However, Hermione noticed that his mind was anywhere but in the present with her.

"What are you thinking about?" She asked him, as she put her wine on the table in front of her.

FP hesitated for a second, but then reminded himself that it was his best friend sitting across of him. He could tell her anything.

"About Gladys... things have been hard lately." He said, looking down at the liquid in his glass.

"Are you still happy?" Hermione dared to ask, though she could read the answer in his eyes.

"When was I ever?" FP scoffed, now looking up to meet her eyes. It was painful answer, but the most honest one he could give.

"I'm stuck, Hermione." He said sadly, almost desperately.

"In your marriage, you mean?" She questioned.

Hermione knew like no other that his relationship with Gladys was anything but healthy, but he never found the courage to divorce her, or to really be honest about how he felt. There was always a reason to shut his mouth.

"Yeah, but with my work, too." FP sighed.

His marriage problems he could deal with, especially when they had been there for years. It was nothing more than trouble that weighed heavily on his well-being, but what he succeeded in pushing aside as much as be could. It was his work problem that bothered him most.