The devastating and heart wrenching story of Yellow, takes you through the journey and relationship of an addict, and a woman who views the world through rose colored glasses. Throughout the story of Yellow, you will see how the struggles, the disap...
I nervously play with my fingers beneath the table as I watch Berry flip through the pieces I had decided to show him. It's been about two weeks since I spoke with Jessie about this meeting so I'm a nervous wreck to say the least.
I had chosen one of my favorite pieces that was included in my portfolio which was of a woman sitting in an hour glass. I had chosen it because it's one of the few pieces of my work that represents such a raw and emotional feeling of waiting for your life to run out. Waiting for that last grain of sand to hit the bottom so everything can finally be over and you can disappear from everything.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
It was an emotional piece to look back on, but regardless of the feelings it gives me and makes me relive, it will always be special to me. Maybe it's the fact that I can now share it proudly, even though at one point in my life, when I had drawn it, I couldn't stand to look at it for more than a few seconds.
"This is deep. Raw." Berry states lowly. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip as he continues to stare at it, his fingers tapping the table slowly before he sits back and meets my gaze. "You're good, Clover. I like you." He starts, the hope I had built up slowly started to crumble.
"Thank you."
"I do want to see more of you, what would you say to dinner sometime in the coming weeks?" He questions. I hold back the urge to furrow my eyebrows out of confusion. This took a turn I wasn't expecting it to. He wants to go to dinner? "Course my son will be there." He adds on, probably sensing my confusion.
"I'm sorry, but what does this have to do with my art?" I ask as politely as I can, watching Berry grin. He's a good looking man, probably late fifties. His hair is salt and peppered and it looks like he's had some work done on his face to lift it but he's also fit and lean like Jessie.
"Well, obviously I'm intrigued by your art and the style of it, but I'm also intrigued by you." He continues, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip as I nod my head slowly. "Jessie talks about you quite a lot." He adds, closing the folder that holds my work and sliding it back to me.
"Okay. . ." I trail, glancing down at my phone as the screen silently lights up. Harry's here. I had asked if he'd be able to pick me up and I'm glad he's here early.
"I figured dinner would be nice and if Jessie is there he might make you more. . . should I say comfortable?" He speaks questioningly. I sigh with disappointment as I nod. "We'll talk about your art a bit more over our dinner, but no promises, I'd like to see you and Jessie side by side." He asks, both of us standing up from the table of a rich café of never even heard of before. "And maybe if I like you with Jessie, we'll see about your art being put into the gallery, sound good?"
"Sounds good." I mumble, spinning on my heels and practically speed walking out the door and to Harry's car, sliding into the passenger seat with a huff.
