The Firefly

51°

Locked in that room I kept my back hunched observing the canvas from behind. I no longer knew what to paint. It had never happened.

Paintings now finished were scattered on the floor, incomplete drafts piled in a corner. I hadn't left there for days on end, except for basic needs.

I had portrayed imaginary and non-imaginary landscapes, people, abstract things and even the abat-jour with which I used to make light on the canvas.

Now, however, I seemed as if drained of the fierce nervous inspiration of which I had been the victim for more than a week.

I got up annoyed, heading toward the pile of unfinished paintings; perhaps I could have continued some of them.

Two little taps on the door made me stop halfway. Jake appeared in the doorway, tray in hand.

-Do I bother?- His nive eyes stood out in the dimness in which he was immersed.

-No, come on in.- I muttered but he had already made his entrance, paused when he bumped the tip of my slipper with his cane.

-How do you feel?-

He was so cautious.

-Never been better.- I smiled at him as I moved a few steps closer to peek into the tray. -You haven't been out in days.- From his tone he seemed to scold me.

-It's not good for you.- He then said, brusquely. "-And I miss you.-" I imagined hearing him say. Hearing no reply he decided to continue.

So he handed me what he kept in his hand: a glass of water and what might have looked like a sandwich.

-Did you make this?- Honored I took the tray with extreme care. I placed it on the coffee table, right next to the palette now almost entirely covered with color.

-I tried.- Still upset he shrugged. Sitting down on the stool I bit into the bread with a certain appetite.

-Is it...acceptable?- I savored the taste of the salad mingling with that of the tomato, chewed again until I discovered ingredients I would not be able to categorize.

Despite everything, however, I had definitely eaten worse. -It's edible.- I joked, breaking into a smile.

I saw him hint at an amused grimace, and the scar on his rosy lips whitened for a few moments.

I finished everything very quickly; I hadn't realized I was so hungry. Jake, meanwhile, had taken a seat on the ottoman next to the incomplete canvases.

The sun was giving way to the moon and stars, the sky was getting darker. I had opened the window to allow some fresh air to circulate which allowed us to clearly hear the chirps of the birds returning to the nest.

-Have you painted much?- The grumpy Greek god was brushing the edge of a canvas with the tip of his finger. -Quite a lot.- I let my legs swing as I reached for the palette, then reconsidered: I wouldn't have known what to paint anyway.

-It's nice, isn't it? Being able to catch all the details you see.- The boy seemed thoughtful as he asked me such a question. 

-Sometimes you don't even realize it.- I whispered, entranced as I gazed at his figure. The raven wisps fell along the contours of his face, the scars looked like shadows drawn in pencil on his features so graceful.

-Would you pose for me, Jake?- It came out so spontaneously that I didn't even blame myself. I forced myself not to take back or add anything as I waited for his response.

-Pose for one of your paintings?- I couldn't define his expression. It was an incredible mixture of honor and discomfort, a total confusion between surprise and dismay.