Heading to the weekly Saturday art class located on the third floor of a four-story red brick building, the idea that I have to spend two hours of mundane art lesson with by far the most beautiful teacher in my life gives me a mixed sensation of frustration and expectation. Just as I slightly open the transparent glass door, she glances up with a warm welcoming smile, her dazzling, mesmerizing hazel eyes meeting mine. Sitting on a black round chair a , "You look more excited than usual" she says, and I give her a short curt reply scrupulously trying to ignore her tight worn-out cobalt blue jeans hugging her slim curves as if it's her second skin.. Sometimes my eyes deviate from the canvas and appreciate the beautiful contrast her pale white flawless skin makes with her dark silky hair gently landing on her shoulders.
Sitting side by side in a small cozy atelier, I can hardly concentrate. With her beautiful smile floating and drifting in my head, pleasant disorientation floods my mind, and I helplessly surrendering to the unknown and unfamiliar emotion, eager to explore. Above all, having spent several weeks together right next to each other, it is hard to dismiss the subtle atmosphere formed in the air. Every once in a while our eyes met, both of our cheeks turning into crimson red. Trapped in an akward silence of few endless minutes, she just stares down at her read converse sneakers as if she is waiting for something. Clock is ticking, and the gap is widening. Yet the blind man is too foolish to offer what the lady seeks.
turningX turnedO
ReplyDeleteThis is more like reading a piece of novel. I am impressed. And I am impressed at how you wrote so elaborately to describe her and the 'subtle atmosphere' that flowed between you. Don't you write what happened aftermath?
ReplyDeleteLee Hong-ho
*aftermath (x)
Deleteafter
readX redO
ReplyDeleteHeading to the weekly Saturday art class located on the third floor of a four-story red brick building, the idea that I have to spend two hours of mundane art lesson with by far the most beautiful girl in my life gives me a mixed sensation of frustration and expectation. Just as I slightly open the transparent glass door, a girl of my age glances up with a warm welcoming smile, her dazzling, mesmerizing hazel eyes meeting mine. Sitting on a black round chair with her legs crossed, "You look more excited than usual" she says, her voice warm, possibly amused. Then I give her a short curt reply scrupulously trying to ignore her tight worn-out cobalt blue jeans hugging her slim curves as if it's her second skin. Sometimes my eyes deviate from the canvas and appreciate the beautiful contrast her pale white flawless skin makes with her dark silky hair gently landing on her shoulders.
ReplyDeleteSitting side by side in a small cozy atelier, I can hardly concentrate. With her beautiful smile floating and drifting in my head, pleasant disorientation floods my mind, and I helplessly surrendering to the unknown and unfamiliar emotion, eager to explore. Above all, having spent several weeks together right next to each other, it is hard to dismiss the subtle atmosphere formed in the air. Every once in a while our eyes met, both of our cheeks turning into crimson red. Trapped in an awkward silence of few endless minutes, she just stares down at her tiny red converse sneakers as if she is waiting for something. Clock is ticking, and the gap is widening. Momentarily paralyzed by the galling uncertainty, I gather my thoughts, ready to execute the preposterous idea.
ReplyDelete