An unnamed artist

Flower shop

667 words

I pick my brush up, it's hairs stained with the residue of old, dried, and unwashed paint. At the tip of it there's a clump of fresh, red, paint, straight from the tube. But there's something wrong. I can't think of anything to paint. Well, I can, but it's nothing I haven't painted already. I've tried sculpting too. I only sat there and watched the clay dry, it's once smooth and moist surface shifting to cold and flakey.

I drop my brush on the nearest table and sigh as I stare at the untouched canvas in front of me. I stand up from the stool, it screeching as it backs away from me as I walk around the studio. Painted canvases cover one half of the room. Some lying flat on the ground, those are the ones I don't like. Others propped up against the wall. And my favorites hung high up the wall. Far from flying paints reach. I venture to the other side of the room. Sculptures lined the walls while others sat on tables. I had painted and sculpted practically everything. From the angriest skies to calmest waves, the African safari to the Amazon Rainforest, the biggest animal to the smallest of birds. Anything you could think of, I've made it, and I don't like making something I've already made before, that's why it's such a struggle for me to find something to make.

I grab my coat and abandon the studio, I need some fresh air.

I make my way to the nearest flower shop, hopefully I'll get some inspiration there. I walk inside, bombarded with the unique and vibrant colors of flowers. I start from one corner of the shop, brushing my fingers over each soft pedal as I name them off along with its resemblance.

Gardenias represent purity and gentleness. Yarrow represents bravery and courage. Peonies represent happiness and romance. Orchids represent thoughtfulness and charm. Lillies, daisies, roses, dahlias, and so on.

I decide to grab a small flower to bring back home since I couldn't find any inspiration. I place the flowers on the counter, I look around while the lady at the desk scans them, that's when I spot a boy, tall, dark brown hair that frames his face, dark skin, and a bouquet of yellow roses.

I'm entranced by his beauty. He's stunning, prettier than a Greek god if I do say so myself. As he steps closer I get a better view of his features, his sharp features such as his jawline, his straight nose, dark eyebrows, and thick lashes.

"Sir, are you okay?" I feel a hand on my shoulder. It's the boy.

"Oh- uhm, yes, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare."

He smiles, a row of perfect white teeth are put on display as he does so. "That's alright, may I ask why you were though?"

"Yes, you're very... eye catching." I say as I hear the lady at the desk tell me the cost of my flowers.

I pull out my wallet and place a twenty on the counter "Keep the change." I mouth.

"Uhm, sir do you mind if we walk together? I'd like to get to know you better." I ask, praying he'll agree.

"Sure, that'd be lovely!" He says as he pays for his flowers.

We both walk out the flower shop and head to the nearest coffee shop. The whole time we were talking. I learned a few things; his name is Ezra Daryun, he has three sisters, loves reading, and wants to be a model. I told him about me; My names Elias Jones, I'm an only child, and I paint and sculpt.

We talked for a couple hours, before he left we exchanged numbers and headed to our houses. That night I lied in bed, comfy under my blankets, surrounded by a comforting darkness. As I closed my eyes I smiled, cause for the first time in months, I know what I want to paint.