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June 15, 2011




She was staring blankly through the glass wall when the cold drizzle drove him into the cafe. Peripherally he caught a few  scattered words on her weakly beaming laptop as he made his way to the counter. Hot coffee in hand he sat down next to her.

Short wispy ochre  hair,   pursed carmine lips. A silhouette as if permanently pinned in place. Two-dimensional.

” I want to paint you”.

She turned towards him. A lazy scrutiny. Grey, they were grey like slate.

“Okay”. Trailing into a question.

He took another gulp of  coffee without taking his eyes off of hers, then slid off his stool.

She shut her laptop and gathered her belongings  gingerly, as if each  action was something just recently learned.

Two blocks later  he was closing the door  to his studio.

Turning around he saw that she had already taken off her blouse and was pulling a leg out of her jeans. Next to her was a growing pile of clothes on top of her bag. An island in a sea of paint-flecked wood.

Through the window he noticed  it had stopped drizzling.

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