Almost. But as it was,
I was an expert in the art of detachment. I no longer lived with those kinds of
useless emotions.
Alright, that
was a complete lie. For a single moment, my world was crushed. The sun had gone
black, the smiles had turned to silent screams, and my silly, idiotic twirling
had become the dance of shame. But it was true that I knew how to distance
myself from those kinds of feelings. I was strong now. And more importantly, my
mood had been too damn good this morning to be spoiled over something that had
absolutely nothing to do with me. Right now, I was queen. Aside from dead
puppies, there was nothing that would bring me down from this high.
Time sped up to
its normal pace and I continued walking, not faltering once. I smiled at the
man who now held a part of my heart as I made my way through the turnstiles. He
didn't smile back. Even so, I kept my face polite as I passed him and his group,
feeling his eyes on me as I made my way towards the back elevator. Judging from
what his blonde was wearing, I knew I couldn't have broken the dress code. So
what was that look for? My slightly soured mood dissolved when the familiar
guard greeted me with a grin. Man-in-charge aside, the people who worked here
were surprisingly nice.
After receiving
a few embarrassing compliments from Patricia, I made my way towards what would
soon become my third home. Once inside, I glanced around once, checking to see
if everything was where I had left it the day before. When I found that it was,
I shut the door and, releasing a heavy breath, turned to lean my back against
it. Where to start?
I kicked off my
shoes, dropped my bag, and put some music on. Normally, I required moody-tunes - songs that fit the theme of whatever project I was working on. But since this
was the beginning and I only needed to prime the walls and paint the base
colors, I settled for a playlist containing upbeat jams from the fifties-and-before
with some dreamy piano pieces thrown in between. It was enough to get my hand
twitching for some action again.
Taking out the
apron I had purchased the day before, I pulled it over my head and knotted the
waist ties into a bow.
Working while
standing had some advantages. For one, it made it much easier to dance. I took
advantage of this. Once I got started on the nitty-gritty details, dancing
would probably be out of the question.
When it came to
working for others, there was always a minute of worry before I started
painting. The fear of messing up clouded my senses, creating a miasma of
failure that filled all corners of the room. What if it wasn't good enough
for him? Should I do something different? What if it's ugly? What if I can't
finish it? What if I'm not good enough?
But after the
first few brushstrokes, those discordant feelings began to dissolve, leaving me
entirely in my element. This is what I do. I create things. It was as
simple as that.
Within a few
minutes, time became nonexistent, as did the world outside of the room. There
was only me and the images in my head, trying to make their way into the
physical realm with the help of my hand and a few colors. It wasn't until I
heard a knock at the door that I was reminded of the life that existed beyond
the small enclosure.
"May I
come in?"
I turned my
head towards Mr. Desmond. He had asked, but walked in anyway.
"Of
course." I went back to painting, ignoring the tingling just beneath my
skin that seemed to only happen whenever he was near. I was in no mood to ogle
at his beauty right now. That being said, it was extremely difficult not sneak
a peek at his face. The man had sheer magnetism, and it wasn't without major
effort on my part that I was able to continue ignoring the pull he had on me. It's
better this way.
He came up
beside me and looked at the wall. Almost three-fourths of it was now covered
I was an expert in the art of detachment. I no longer lived with those kinds of
useless emotions.
Alright, that
was a complete lie. For a single moment, my world was crushed. The sun had gone
black, the smiles had turned to silent screams, and my silly, idiotic twirling
had become the dance of shame. But it was true that I knew how to distance
myself from those kinds of feelings. I was strong now. And more importantly, my
mood had been too damn good this morning to be spoiled over something that had
absolutely nothing to do with me. Right now, I was queen. Aside from dead
puppies, there was nothing that would bring me down from this high.
Time sped up to
its normal pace and I continued walking, not faltering once. I smiled at the
man who now held a part of my heart as I made my way through the turnstiles. He
didn't smile back. Even so, I kept my face polite as I passed him and his group,
feeling his eyes on me as I made my way towards the back elevator. Judging from
what his blonde was wearing, I knew I couldn't have broken the dress code. So
what was that look for? My slightly soured mood dissolved when the familiar
guard greeted me with a grin. Man-in-charge aside, the people who worked here
were surprisingly nice.
After receiving
a few embarrassing compliments from Patricia, I made my way towards what would
soon become my third home. Once inside, I glanced around once, checking to see
if everything was where I had left it the day before. When I found that it was,
I shut the door and, releasing a heavy breath, turned to lean my back against
it. Where to start?
I kicked off my
shoes, dropped my bag, and put some music on. Normally, I required moody-tunes - songs that fit the theme of whatever project I was working on. But since this
was the beginning and I only needed to prime the walls and paint the base
colors, I settled for a playlist containing upbeat jams from the fifties-and-before
with some dreamy piano pieces thrown in between. It was enough to get my hand
twitching for some action again.
Taking out the
apron I had purchased the day before, I pulled it over my head and knotted the
waist ties into a bow.
Working while
standing had some advantages. For one, it made it much easier to dance. I took
advantage of this. Once I got started on the nitty-gritty details, dancing
would probably be out of the question.
When it came to
working for others, there was always a minute of worry before I started
painting. The fear of messing up clouded my senses, creating a miasma of
failure that filled all corners of the room. What if it wasn't good enough
for him? Should I do something different? What if it's ugly? What if I can't
finish it? What if I'm not good enough?
But after the
first few brushstrokes, those discordant feelings began to dissolve, leaving me
entirely in my element. This is what I do. I create things. It was as
simple as that.
Within a few
minutes, time became nonexistent, as did the world outside of the room. There
was only me and the images in my head, trying to make their way into the
physical realm with the help of my hand and a few colors. It wasn't until I
heard a knock at the door that I was reminded of the life that existed beyond
the small enclosure.
"May I
come in?"
I turned my
head towards Mr. Desmond. He had asked, but walked in anyway.
"Of
course." I went back to painting, ignoring the tingling just beneath my
skin that seemed to only happen whenever he was near. I was in no mood to ogle
at his beauty right now. That being said, it was extremely difficult not sneak
a peek at his face. The man had sheer magnetism, and it wasn't without major
effort on my part that I was able to continue ignoring the pull he had on me. It's
better this way.
He came up
beside me and looked at the wall. Almost three-fourths of it was now covered
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