The Artist

7

I stand completely still since my muscles have just decided not to contract for movement at all. The artist stares at my face, taking it all in, with patient eyes. The silence is a bit overwhelming but somehow it's not awkward. I look around the grey room. Nothing has furnished it at all except for closet on the far side and the grand piano before me.

The smooth voice is barely audible. "Excuse me, miss, may I help you? Or did you hear something that comforts you?" His smile is tight and I sort of wonder how he knows that it brings me that sort of emotion.

"I...um..." I'm completely speechless. Come on, Jack, say something before you make a fool out of yourself. Of course you already did when you ran through a stranger's house! "S-sorry." I whisper it. Lustfully, I want to tell him about my dreams. I want to just spill everything out since I've found the artist, but something unknown holds me back. Fear of being called insane? Probably. Am I insane? The answer is clear to anyone who knows what goes on inside my brain.

"Ahh," Another amused voice comes from behind me; it's the man that I first met outside. "You've found my dear friend's area of expertise. Are you impressed?" 

It's a simple question yet somehow it angers me from deep within. Why would it? No idea. It's like...he knows who I am but is just teasing me around the edges... I turn around.

The man has a solemn grin pulled across his pale lips. "Are you?" he repeats.

A few seconds tick by and somehow I get lost in a thought. The brain-fart was quick but I got a peek of it and before I can push the thought away, it comes full blast into my mind. Maybe...maybe my mother had me dreaming of the music.. A hurtful pinch twists my heart and I can feel my throat close up. That's insane though. She couldn't lead me here! But...what did? The music, surely! I debate with myself for a while.

Then my mother's face pulls from a long ago memory and I almost faint. It's all in my head, but it seems so real. Her smile is amusing, mischievous, and wild. Just like her personality.  She'd give me that look when we was about to let me in on a secret, prank, or just after she prank-ed me. It always made me happy but now, seeing her face in my mind but knowing she holds no breath, it's like shoving a hot iron down my throat.

The two men don't say anything all this while, just watch my face. I realize that I've been staring at the dark haired man for quite a bit. Flickering my eyes away, I shove my hands into my pockets.

"I'm so sorry for barging in, running through your house, sir." I turn to the artist. "I'm sorry for interrupting your music; I heard it and... I don't...know what came over me. I guess it reminded me of something."

The word something sends a flicker of some emotion through the artist's eyes but he says nothing.

"The piece is beautiful, however, you should add singing to it." In a very soft sound, I sing the notes I heard him sing in the song I heard in Liam's car. Locking eyes with him, I know he understands. "Excuse me." I turn and pass the dark haired man. Walking back out into the dimly lit house, I can barely make out objects.How did I run through here the first time? I ask myself. Feeling myself along, I take tiny steps to who-knows-where. Finally, I start to feel the chilly air so I know I'm close. I push open the door and light filters in, temporarily blinding me.

A few feet away is Senka, the little girl, with her legs straight out, on her back, and her eyes staring fixedly at the sky. When she hears the gravel crunching under my feet as I walk by, she sits up and looks at me. "Would you come and lay with me?" Her voice is a clear murmur and I can hear the desperation ringing inside it.

"I don't think that's a good idea; sorry." I mumble. I'm about to walk away when another voice belonging to the dark haired man starts pronunciating.