Blur
The gallery had a wandering chill...
The gallery had a wandering chill, so Nin kept changing spots: cold marble bench, sticky children’s chairs, standing near her painting, though not next to it, never next to it. She didn’t want to look desperate. Desperate people got approached for their desperation, not for the wiggly green lines that pinned a soul to canvas.
No one approached that canvas. Great plan. She’d been terrified no one saw her, so she’d gone out and proved it to herself.
“Time’s up,” the gallery favorite said and took her piece off the wall.
She didn’t bother wrapping it. “Thanks for letting me borrow your spot.
The subway’s chill was even worse. Louder too. A desperate woman pled with her boyfriend, while streaking mascara attacked her eyes. “Fuck, wait, just look at—”
But he was already gone.
Nin handed her a tissue. She dabbed her eyes and, with a sniff, pointed at the painting. “That’s depressing as fuck. I love it.”
Nin looked at her wiggly mess. Huh.
The subway arrived. Without another word, she shoved it into the woman’s hands and got on board.
In under 200 words, write your own story to this prompt: The gallery had a wandering chill…
With love & ink,
Casper