An uninspired writer

Undefined geometry

Friday night. I followed a friend to a modern art exhibition. A modern painter, one of my mate's acquaintances... Only two choices tonight : those canvas or science fiction movies all night. Here at least, glasses of champagne and petits fours were under my nose. Another boring weekend ahead... Time to work on my app again!

Around me, people in their Sunday best. I made some efforts, replacing my 'jeans/t-shirt/sneakers' uniform by... a blue shirt, black jeans and boots. A big sacrifice, especially as my feet feel cramped. The blinding white exhibition hall is huge. It feels more uncomfortable than an hospital room, as if the goal was for guests to leave as quickly as they came. Fortunately alcohol and snacks were a great help. I put my hands in my coat pockets trying to estimate their depth. Enough to hide beer cans.

Staring at a canva, I frown, trying to focus. They all look the same however: one square meter, white background, geometric figures. Cold looking paintings with dramatic names: "Desire", "Renaissance", "Pain", "Compassion"... Glaring at them for a long time, turning my head in all directions, I could not feel anything.

Earlier, my friend Ren was talking with the painter. I managed to follow ten minutes of their conversation without yawning. They were talking about "the transcription of inner states through geometric shapes". I must not have access to my deepest emotions, because I still do not get it.

Single for months, I thought I could meet someone tonight. I look around. Most of the people are already accompanied. Impossible to talk to the few people who seem single. They are either too interested in the paintings or focused on some intense artistic discussions.

Sighing, I turn around, looking for a prey. A new face in the crowd. Tall and thin, he is dressed in black, wears high boots. Strands of hair fall on his eyes. Beautiful pink lips. Barely arrived, the young man approaches the painter who discusses with guests. He takes the artist's arm, both start a discussion which quickly heats up. Their voices get tangled, the volume increases. The visitors cannot help listening. Near me, two women whisper, one of them discreetly points to him.

- The painter's ex, right?! They had a tumultuous affair!, comments a lady.

Good news. I take a few steps forward.

- It's neither the place, nor the moment to make a scene! Act like an grown-up for once!, enjoins the painter.

- It's funny, you never complained about my spontaneity before!, remarks the handsome guy. 

- That time is over Allen! Let's move on... both of us!

- Good! I wish you Sir all the success in the world... for this bland exhibition!

Allen... Finally an interesting person this evening. The young man grabs a glass of champagne before turning on his heels. It is now or never! I empty my glass, grab my coat, run after him. I rush down the stairs. Outside, in the freshness of the night, out of breath, I put my coat on. Inspecting the surroundings, I see a silhouette hastily moving away in the distance, I resume my race. 

- Mister? Sir! Excuse me, sir!

- What?, he turns around. 

The young man stops. In a few minutes, I reach his height.

- Sir! I can't let you leave with that glass of champagne. It's the property of the exhibition hall.

- Are you kidding me?!, he shouts.

Upset, Allen glares at me. I take the glass from his hands, empty the content in front of his stunned eyes. Allen clenches his fists.

- This is the best part of this boring evening. I've been dying to talk to you!