Story of an artist

Chapter 3 • Turns out to be

A few months went by. The girl seemed to be contended with her new friend. One day she actually caught my over attentive stalking and decided to meet me. Her name was Flora and the guy was Carell. They were unbelievably  fun and perfect in every way. The warmth of friendship they had could cheer you up in the darkest day of your life. Carell. The guy is simple and innocent, blond hair, deep sea blue eyes. He always made those small conversation into longer and intimate ones, like he had been with us forever in our life. No wonder he lightened the life of Flora.

"They look wonderful, Brun"
"All thanks to you both"
" I am the one who should be thanking"

She said to me after turning her eyes towards me with a grin on her face after closely studying my paintings. Her childish face was much happier like always. I wondered if the musician guy had abandoned her. Through out I had explained everything to her about my paintings, my daily visit to the park, everything. She understood it perfectly and agreed to be a friendly stranger to me. That was such a relief for my ears and hands.  She would often make visits though. She would remain peaceful and silent watching my hands stroke over the cream colored canvas. At last she would leave with a smile which conveyed all of her regards to me.

My studio apartment was getting filled with my 'chicken scratches' as my mother would tease me, when I was a tad bit younger. I can't believe mother's honey pie has turned into a weird stalker who paints random strangers in the park. I laughed at myself and noticed the over filled ashtray with cigarette butts. My evolving day dream had awakened me to the studio room which was heavily scented with cigarettes and paint. Anyone would vomit if they had inhaled but I had gotten used to it. Still most of the nights it didn't give me sleep because of the pungent smell. So I would enjoy my walks around the curb.

Leaving the glass on the table after taking a sip of poison. I started to gather my thoughts around the pane of glass which was showcasing with a bright sun rise. I had decided to renovate my apartment with the money I would get from selling the paintings. I  was wondering about my favorite critic and my friend. Well its more like my only critic and we have a kind of attraction to each other. L'art the art gallery which is located two blocks away from me. I always showcased my collections for her. She valued them like no other. We haven't really talked for a while

Gripping on to the coffee mug I looked at her. She was busy mixing her coffee with sugar  It was past four p.m. She was really eager to hear my experience of painting the new collection. I told her bits by bits. Soo many emotions had gone past her face while the words came crashing from my mouth. The coffee was only fair and the only reason we had visited the cafe was to just get the privacy. There was still coffee left in our cups even after two hours. She asked me when I was going to show case the paintings. I shrugged like always. She stood up and planted a kiss on my cheeks and said with wave.

"Tomorrow itself, love"

I withdraw from the slightly crowded cafe to my favorite park. The park seemed to be abandoned. There weren't the usual number of people in it. I walked to the spot of the lovely friends where they chatted constantly. To my surprise I noticed a red on blue stripped bag that was identical to the one which Carell used to carry. My animal side glared around the park making sure that no one noticed me. I laid my hands on the bag. I found something really valuable. Then there was name tag.

Carell Joseph
24th avenue, Mary Street