Crescendo

Untitled Part 3

"Clairy, I fucked it," Vincent groaned as he entered their apartment.

"What is it this time, Vince?" Claire asked.

"A work of art," Vince leaned on the back of the couch, next to his roommate's head, "We just stared at each other in awestruck silence, it was truly beautiful, you should try it sometime."

"And then?"

Vince pulled his head out of the clouds and his face dropped, "I spoke."

"Ah, yes, the true killer of romance."

Vincent flopped onto the couch, next to Claire, "I'm so dumb! The chances of her getting with someone like me are approximately zero."

"Approximately means not exact, so it could be a strong .5."

"Wow, thanks, that really gives me hope about not dying in an unmarked grave, sad and alone."

"Vince, lighten up," Claire ruffled Vince's hair, "Your grave won't be unmarked."

Vincent sighed and made his way to the kitchen. Upon opening the refrigerator, he remembered that it was empty save for a quarter bottle of wine and a moldy chicken salad sandwich from three weeks ago. "Hey, Clairy?" Vince called.

"Yeah?" Claire responded.

"Did you happen to go grocery shopping?"

"You see the contents of our fridge, right?"

Vince shut his eyes tight, "Why not?"

"Would you like to know what my bank account balance is, Vince?"

"Cla-"

"Three dollars and thirty-two cents. Would you like to know how much groceries cost?"

"More than that," Vince sighed.

"Exactly."

Vincent grabbed a glass of water and headed to his studio/bedroom. Once he entered the room, Vince sat at his desk analyzed his current work-in-process. It was a watercolor piece. The concept was simple- two lovers reaching toward each other frozen in time, never touching. Their porcelain fingers inches apart and their faces sultry.

Vincent often made pieces like this. His Instagram followers say it's because he's lonely, and Claire says it's because it's what sells. But Vince likes to think it's because it's the rawest form of want. Two people destined to be together will never touch, never feel the warmth of the other's embrace, never feel the softness of their lips pressed together. The more Vince thought about it, the more he started to this that maybe it was because he was lonely. And the more he thought about how lonely he was, the more he thought about that woman. 

She was peculiar, but not blatantly. There was something she was hiding, something big. Vince was determined to figure out what it was.