The Art Critic

Click here to view the image that prompted this story.

He put down his brush down and stepped back to look at his latest painting. Its hues shone through in the sunlight, and its speckles contrasted beautifully against a rainbow of colors.

He pursed his lips and wrinkled his brow. Something seemed to be missing, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He turned to the other paintings in his studio, and felt that, beautiful as they may be, they too had something missing in their canvases. But what was it?

He wasn’t quite sure, so he decided to take a walk outside to clear his head. He reached for the door, and almost bumped into the little girl who always delivered his mail in the morning.

She was visibly surprised, but gave him a wide smile. He nodded in her direction and was about to take off for his walk when he saw her look past him and towards his studio.

He didn’t usually like unveiling his unfinished pieces to public eyes, but there was something in her awestruck manner that moved him. In an uncharacteristic gesture, he stood aside and beckoned the young girl inside. “Come in, come in. Why don’t you take a look around?”, he asked with a smile.

Her eyes shone as she happily skipped inside with the undelivered envelopes still in her hands. She surveyed his paintings one by one, and he felt a little nervous at her scrutiny. She would oftentimes smile and sometimes talk to herself, paying him no heed.

She then stopped at his latest creation, and stared at it for a long, long time. She pouted a little and moved her head left and right, as if trying to look at it in different angles. He stifled a laugh, but enjoyed her attention to his works.

At long last, she turned to him. Pointing at the last one she scrutinized, she brightly said, “This one’s my favorite!”

Her statement took him by surprise, so much so that he didn’t realize that she shoved a couple of envelopes in his hands and ran out the door. For some time, he stared at his painting from his spot, and a soft smile appeared on his lips.

With a shake of his head, he moved to the exit, absentmindedly pocketed his mail, and locked the door on his way out.


Image source: reddit.com/r/Art/comments/7npf6v/next_steps_acrylic_18x_24/
First written January 4, 2018.
#95

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