Art

A short creative writing piece by David Russell.

It started in an art gallery, much in the way that these things never do. His grey coffee tarnished and cigarette tainted stubble rustled as his weathered leathery mitts massaged his chin and jawline unconsciously. A chill ran through the air, shimmering it’s way through his obstinate neck hairs. The chill in the air matched the chill in his heart as his eyes wandered unwittingly over to her. He saw her. He knew instantly she would be the end of him, and the start. All that he was, had ever and could or would ever be disappeared into the vibrant depths of her eyes as she spoke silently to another, radiating pure good. He heard odd notes from her voice drifting over in hushed tones, but could not decipher the words. He didn’t care what they were, he just revelled in her sound. Her distant chorus.

It was in this moment that he saw her for who she would truly become in his heart. A perfect soul, perilously yet irrelevantly flawed when embodied on this plane. He turned away. Why would he do anything else? All this woman would bring him was misery and pain, proving herself over time to be just another person, human as all of us other animals.

A hand. His shoulder. A turn. Those eyes. A smile. His heart. A life. A love.

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