Uninterrupted and quickly, I quietly tiptoe in the middle of the night, to that simple room which only contains a painting. Undisturbed, it hangs on the walls. When we had moved into this house, when i had discovered this masterpiece, I begged my parents not to take it down or put any furniture in this room-because that would ruin the peace of the piece.
The painting-no the boy in the painting, is gently looking at me again with those kind but sorrowful eyes. Sometimes, I can almost feel like it's crying.
At times, I question myself, if I'm in love, with this boy who may have never existed. He just seems so pure, but a mist of mystery wraps him up as a blanket. All these years, never a day have I not come to this room, to see my beloved. It never gets boring, because it is as if he's always alive and communicates with me as to a real human.
My hands slowly lifts up and stretches out to the figure.
A tiny drop of warm wetness falls onto my index finger. Then another and another. As the wetness grows hotter and hotter, the boy in the painting moves its frozen lips to mime something.
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But I don't understand. The boy seems to know, so he gets impatient.
As a result of this, he gets fuzzy and his paint faints. Suddenly, an explosion of colours covers the area inside the frames. And then there was no movement.
A few seconds.
A few minutes.
Half an Hour...
One hour...
The boy does not come back.
Not knowing why, I raise my arms, that had sunken back by my side while I was waiting, to the explosion of paint. I didn't know why I was there, why I was waiting, what I was expecting. Fingertips stroking the explosion, a thin strand of smoke arise from it. The smoke grows bigger, larger, magnificent and then envelopes me in its smoking hot hug.
I can feel my eyes becoming duller by the second, sorrowful, just like the boy who had disappeared, or rather-exploded. Why am I getting miserable? Why do I feel so much about this?
After a long time had past, I finally see a human again. The little boy begs his parents not to take me away. At that time, i wanted to tell him that: I'm bored, I want to escape this hell hole, this empty space, this nothingness. Though seeing how he thought that I looked peaceful and happy, I gave up. He would be very useful.
For the past few years, I listen when Tanaka tells me all his good times and bad, troubles and ideas. I watched him grow into a big boy.
That day when I fooled him into thinking that I had vanished, I was happy, because I knew that I was going to live once more!
