Strokes of Alizarin Crimson

"Oh Geoff," Abigail gasped with a smile, "it's lovely." She stepped closer to the painting, admiring the bold colors against a titanium white background. A small twisting metal frame encased the elaborate piece as Abigail eyed the details.

"You really think so?" He asked. His heart was beating heavily. He loved when Abigail visited his studio. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and for her to love his work was an intoxicating feeling.

"May I?" she asked as she gestured to the painting with her hands softly reaching. Geoff gave a small nod for her to grasp it. "There are textures in the paint that make it feel alive." She stared at it, as if in a trance. Her face to the painting made Geoff warm inside.

"Ouch!" Abigail howled before placing the piece back on the easel.

"What happened, are you alright?" Geoff asked all at once taking a cautioned step toward Abigail.

"The frame cut my finger a bit." She said looking at her soft hand. "Oh shoot! A drop of my blood got on your painting Geoff!" Her face paled with guilt.

Somehow the concern in her face only made her that much more beautiful. Geoff glanced at his work. He did see a small glob of shining crimson on the top corner. "Don't worry Ab," he began, not looking away from the glob, "it is just more color after all. No harm done."

"I better be going." She said, her voice still filled with culpability. "I will be by tomorrow though. I will bring you lunch as an apology."

"Sure Ab," he replied as she flounced out the front door. He still kept his gaze on the glob that was now slowly drying.

The color was bold. It was much bolder than the other colors on the canvas. The edges were so fine, and the color sunk deeper into the canvas than oil, acrylic, or watercolor could possibly do.

He watched the mark dry in stages. First it was bright, lively. As it dried, it got darker, but bolder somehow. It even created its own texture on the canvas that he had never seen before.

Yes, he could smell it too. He closed his eyes for just a moment as his nostrils drew in the coppery sent that wafted from the dribble before him. He wanted to inhale infinitely for the fear that the exhale would extinguish the aroma.

When he opened his eyes, the spot took him by surprise. Somehow it looked even more beautiful than before he closed them. The shape was somewhat different and the color was deep.

There was no way of knowing how long he looked at the spot, ever changing, almost alive. Before he had a chance to realize, the sun had risen again and there was a knock on his door. A pang in his stomach echoed at the idea of walking away from the spot to answer. However, the scent was gone and the color had stayed the same for some time. He stepped toward the door feeling empty, knowing that the night of wonder and beauty had finally come to an end.

"Hey Geoff!" Abigail sang. She swung an arm holding a paper bag around his left shoulder and kissed him hard on the cheek. Normally this gesture would make him melt, but after his night, it was stale. "I do hope you like gyros." She marched to his table and began pulling small boxes from the bag as he closed and locked the door.

He was surprised that he locked the door. Normally he wouldn't even lock it at night. Perhaps he was just wanting to protect Abigail. That was surely it.

"I have yet to meet anyone you has not fancied a gyro on occasion." He forced a smile as he sat down across from her gently. With two hands, Abigail cutely placed the sandwich in front of Geoff.

It was then that Geoff's smile became sincere. There was a small white cloth wrapped around one of Abigail's fingers. Through the cloth poked a small crimson dot, still vibrant. Geoff could feel all the air leave his lungs and the saliva grew thick in his mouth.