Short Story Collection #1

A Cliff-Edge Meeting (W.A. Ed.) - Part 3

Part Three: DISTANCE

He stared out of the window, watching the world in a white line pass by. The train rolled along smoothly, making his observation very satisfying. The snow fell on the earth, collecting and creating white blankets of ice over the whole town.

He thought about what he had witnessed earlier; he thought about that old man's death and how he could've easily stopped him from doing so. All it would've taken was a quick dash forward and a pull.

"Why couldn't I bring myself to do it?" he asked himself. He refocused his vision until he could see his own reflection on the window.

Soon, the train stopped and he gave his ticket to the conductor. He got off at a small town outside the big city where he was bound for a gallery.

The gallery was a desolate one, filled with dull paintings, sculptures, and small items of art created by small-price artists or amateurs. He had been told that he may see a special exhibit there regarding papercraft so he decided to visit since he had loved papercraft ever since the girl showed him the art.

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"Someday I want to make art for a living," the girl said one day while they were waiting for the sunset. They were sitting together hand in hand at the base of the tree. The girl had brought slices of bread and cheese to ease their hunger.

"For a living?" the boy asked, putting away his meal to address her a little bit more directly. "Is that even possible?"

"My father and I lives off his papercraft art. He gets to sell the good ones for a hefty price, you see."

The boy thought for a moment before asking, "But to learn art professionally...you'd have to go back to the city."

She was silent for she had known of the requirements for becoming a master craftsman in any form of art. She'd have to go to a university far off in the city, away from her father, away from her friends and away from him.

The boy sensed her sadness and he said, in a hasty tone, "But, I mean, I'm going to the city as well. I have no interest in art or any of the sort, though."

The girl beamed. "Are you truly going to the city to finish your studies?"

"I'll try."

"Oh, that would be wonderful! What are you planning to pick up?"

The boy thought for a moment. He shrugged after making up his mind. "I don't know."

She frowned. "That's not going to do you any good. You'll have to find something you are good at."

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He pushed open the doors of the gallery.

There was no other living thing in the gallery but the lady he had contacted earlier that day about the gallery event. She told him that she had been expecting him and that the other visitors will come later.

"That's fine, ma'am," he said. "It is actually to my advantage that I am alone here."

The woman asked why that was so.

"I am a student of literature. I like to create stories out of artworks, as you may say. I create the thousands words that is required to describe a picture."

The woman complimented him and told him that he may take his time. He, in response, said his regards and stepped forward to the hall where the art pieces that he so desired were.