She walks down the street, looking at all the little shops located on the side. Merchants are selling bright, colorful trinkets that draw the eye. Most of those trinkets are of the art: intricately detailed masks, thickly bound novels, varieties of paint, many sizes of paintbrushes, large and small canvases. They draw her eye too, but she rips them from the expensive items, jingling the few coins in her pocket.
She turns the corner to the next street, excited, the loud noises of the market becoming a distant hum. Spotting the small, run-down shop, she quickens her pace, leaps up the crumpling, concrete steps, and bursts through the door.
She smiles at the kind old lady behind the counter and walks over. The lady, Gilia , grins in return.
" What can I do for you, Tesoro? "
She reaches into her pocket to finger the meager coins she was able to take with her, smiling at the endearment.
" I would like some paints, if you can, Gilia. I only have but a few euros with me, so I can't take too many. Also a paintbrush, please- your cheapest one."
Gilia only nods her head; she breathes in relief. Seconds later, Gilia returns with a few paint tubes and a slim paintbrush. At the sight, her fingers itch to cradle the slender-looking brush, to dip it in soft, bursting colors and create a beautiful painting, something full of life and joy and truth. Something real. She wants to paint for her country, just like everyone else is able to. And now she can.
"Thank you, Gilia, thank you so much. Here is the money," she says, fishing the coins out and placing them gently on the countertop. She doesn't look at the items Gilia put into her bag, not wanting to take it out right then and there. She looks up, waiting for Gilia to say goodbye first.
" I haven't seen you in a long time, Tesoro. Not since you were little and still had your Mamma watching you. I won't ask if you don't wish to tell me, but it is good to see your face after all this time. You have grown into a beautiful woman, and you look much the same as you had when you were a child. I will see you again soon?"
She blinks her watery eyes and answers her dear friend with truth.
" I don't know Gilia. I hope so. I am not even supposed to be here, but that is all I will tell you, I am so sorry. I missed you, too, Gilia. Thank you again." She offers a last smile towards the woman and turns away, walking out the door and onto the street.
YOU ARE READING
A Mystical Muse
Short StoryIn the times of rebirth, renewal, and revival of society, Catalina itches to add to her precious hometown of Florence, Italy, as are so many others. But, her mother has forbade her from doing such a thing, from even picking up a brush, as is her pre...
