The salty summer air was caressing him softly, leaving a new series of beads of sweat lounging over his nose and upper lip. The waves that gushed reduced to ripples as it approached the shore and lightly tickled his toe.
He was seated on a chair, feet resting on fine sand and one hand placed thoughtfully in his chin, he was staring blankly at the cheap canvas he had bought for an unknown reason. Unknown, because he never fancied painting, let alone in canvas.
He closed his eyes and listened to the sea. There was the music of waves alright, but he heard another faint voice. He willed himself to heed to the latter.
It was a giggle, as mirthful as the bubbling waters of the sea, it seemed to travel along with the waters to his ears and then his sharp ears clung on to the unmistakable sound of anklets jingling muffled, in the saline water of the beach.
His eyes flew open and then searched helplessly around. The girl was racing with the tide trying to outwit the water that flowed to the shore from touching her feet. Each giggle resounded into his heart and stuck there.
His hand was already moving about the canvas. He traced the pencil along a round face, about as round as the moon, he thought. Eyes like wolf, ears like apricots, full lips that pouted out. The man was satisfied. He had to work in detail to draw the nose though, after all it was the most specific feature. He worked amazingly with the pencil painting a perfect arc just as beautiful as he wanted it to be. As for the hair, he drew it like the Niagara Falls falling down in lovely sheets.
Leaning back in his chair he relished the painting of the love of his life. Then just as immediately his eyes turned towards the beach. The girl was gone. His heart washed in a wave of grief, he didn’t know why.
His attention drew back to the painting. His heart was beating fast now and his eyes were trying to take in the picture. His love was pouring through the art, lining each of the curves, each nook and corner. Tears welled up in his eyes threatening to spill at any moment.
He felt as if the picture was alive, and he felt a deep longing in his heart to hold that face, to see her smile. In a fast motion his hands flew to the canvas. But the canvas were just as weak as his heart, it fell over just as a colossal tide washed it away into the blue waters. The man was crying, wading along the waters to reach out to his love, but it was too late. He bawled at the top of his voice, “Come back, please.”
His eyes popped open into the grey ceiling of the forlorn cell. Streaks of bright light was flooding the cell. He sat up swiftly and glared out of his cell. His neighbor prisoner was rattling his head on the bars just as the guards were stuffing pills into his mouth.
He propped himself on the adjoining wall and gazed blankly out of the window of the mental sanatorium waking up from the trance.
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