By NationChild

Created on May 24th, 2007

Sigh. It must have taken Antonio Gaudi a generous amount of time to create his lizard.

She was taking quite a bit of time to paint the artist’s lizard replica. It wasn’t nearly as big as the original, but it was still roughly the size of a Labrador puppy.

Across the room at another table, he sat finishing the last details on his portrait. The acrylic paint was squirting out of the bottle in small freckles; there was very little left in the bottom. Therefore, it was necessary to hold the bottle upside down over the palette, all the while blinking blearily and looking nowhere in particular.

The art room was quite a peaceful picture right then. Two people sitting, silently painting…then he had to ruin the moment by flicking a spot of paint across the room.

Well, he was bored. It was going to take over a century to finish his portrait if the paint kept dripping at the speed it currently was. Besides, it was fun bothering her.

She was not happy with him. A brown splotch had “mysteriously” appeared on her lizard. Not thinking of the consequences, she retaliated with her own missile of paint.

“This is all your fault,” she grumbled. As he washed the paint off of the tables with a wet paper towel, all he did was grin.

He then walked towards her, evading the blotches of paint speckled here and there on the floor of the art room. She was mopping up the floor, still sulking, when she heard his approach. Scowling, she raised her head to face him. It was then that he asked her to go out with him.

“I can’t believe you cheated on me!” she couldn’t even look at him. How could he do this to her? How?

His head was facing the ground in what she hoped was shame. Then, to her dismay, he started walking away from her. No apologies, no arguments, no nothing. So she did the only thing she could do. She walked away, too.

Whir-whir-whir. Beep. The beep signified the end of the laundry cycle. Opening the door, she picked some miscellaneous pieces of clothing out, folded them. Retrieving a pair of jeans, she folded those, too. A few shirts, another pair of jeans, and a skirt later, she came upon the last article of clothing in the dryer.

She fondled the shirt. It was the one she had been wearing the day he asked her out. The sky-blue shirt now had colorful polka-dots adorned on it. The stains wouldn’t come out.