wynn
the smell of coffee lingered lightly around me, the familiar sound of a bell continuously going off every 20 minutes or so. she sat before me, a pen in one hand, intertwined between her fragile fingers, and her normal chai in the other. the pen was being twirled, her mind on the words that lay on the paper in front of her, her mouth barely opened trying to get the courage to answer my previous question.
"so, what'd you write?"
she took in a breath of air, bringing the cup closely to her mouth but not having enough courage to drink it.
turning the paper towards me, I took a sly glance and gazed across the black ink resting on the thinly coordinated lines. i care about you, and only you.
putting the thought of the other paper aside, my heart began to quicken and a smile spread across my face, although knowing it was anonymous made it sink. she looks up and coughs out a familiar word.
"you."
she looks down, fiddling with the black pen, not making eye contact. i reach over and lock her hand with mine, giving it a gentle squeeze.
"i like you, ella, i really do." her green eyes stare back with a wave full of relief, her lips creasing into a smile, "i'm glad we're on the same page, that would've been awkward," she says in return.
"can I read yours?" ella asks
i didn't respond quickly, unsure if my letter would make the situation awkward.
"maybe later," i began, and notice her eyes dart back to the table, "i want you to read it when we're both on the exact same page."
she nodded, knowing what I meant and continued drinking her tea, her cream lipstick fainting because of the marks it made on the white lid.
* * *
"what to do, what to do," i yawn out, tapping my fingers on the all to familiar wooden table, finding a well known rhythm while at it.
"well, we could visit the empire?"
"i've been there too many times."
she furrows her brows in thought, the black pen twisting and turning within her fingers, "why don't I show you something?"
i move my elbow off the table looking up at her with a sly glance, "what did you have in mind?"
* * *
we ended up walking towards 80 thompson street, landing in front of a brick building, the thoughts of several cat ladies lurking within each apartment made my eyes go wide. she roughly grabbed my shivering hand, courtesy of the weather, and rushed towards the buildings welcoming entrance.
ella and i passed by the doorman, her offering him a gentle smile, which in return he gave back with a nod. she laughed and continued on her trail, moving left and right, and finally stopping at a door. it was perfectly white, with a wooden doorknob marking its territory.
she turned towards her bag, reaching inside and grabbing a key that held a touristy I LOVE NYC key chain, smirking, i asked, "would this be your humble abode?" smiling, she inserted the key opening the door shyly.
"correct dear sir," she responded, giggling to herself lightly.
i walked in, shutting the door behind me, her apartment didn't resemble that of a cat lady, but more of an organic hippie. there were indie posters plastered on the wall in front of the door. paintings scattered across the hallways, and some even laid on the ground, on the verge of falling flat.
taking my hand once again, she pulled me towards a room that held a familiar smell, paint. the room held hundreds of painting material, blue and purple drops scattered on the walls, paint brushes perfectly aligned on a table next to the window above it. the sun was shining through and held a perfect glance on the object in the center of the room.
"a canvas?"
ella walks over to the covered object and gently tugs off the light layer of sheet, showcasing a breathtaking painting, my fingers scattered across the delicate image, tracing every bump and curved edge held within it.
the canvas portrayed a girl, her hand resting upon a table, she wore a grey beanie, sitting lightly on her head, glasses framing her face and a pen in her right hand. on the table held hundreds of loose pieces of paper, each one scribbled with the same sentence, your lips tend to crash with everyone around you seeking for the familiar taste of home.
"you drew this?"
"it's an attempt, but yes," she smiled greatly, a hint of pride residing from her voice.
"it's absolutely amazing ella."
i turn towards her and reach for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, pulling her closely into my arms, her light brown hair brushing against the corner of my neck.
"you know, for every line or elegant curve you make with those paint brushes i think i fall in love with you even more," i confess
she looks up at me with a smile, and then glances back at the painting, "love, huh? i think i'll have to draw more often then."
if only you could read the letter.
YOU ARE READING
la colombe (re-editing)
Teen Fiction"darling, you are art, most importantly, you are my art."
