Desperate Art

 

Tristan entered the room on the whim of a sigh. Always sighing with hardly a reason, so it seemed to others but he did. A heavy burden did he have doing absolutely nothing as always the constant bore boarded over his head. He entered the kitchen for something useful, his stomach had been screaming all day. It had been four days that he’d gone without a scrap. He could feel a bubble forming in the pit of his stomach but he tried not to think about it. He opened the fridge in vain, already sure it was empty. So he walked over to the sink and poured a glass of water, downing it on a toast to the life he could have had. Throwing his jacket on the couch he entered his drawing room, content on finishing the piece.

 

He had been painting her for a while now but could never get her true perfection down on paper. He didn’t really know her, in fact he had only seen her once…ok more than once, but he wasn’t stalking her, he was sure of that. She just happened to be in his general direction of wandering. She was always there, it was a custom of hers so it seemed.

Reviews

[Leap]

I like this lots. Thanks for your review. I'm not the painter, he's a very good friend who I'm trying to kinda promote - he's shy too. Your work is very good. Add me as a friend so I get updates on new stuff. Keep in touch.