One Night in Brooklyn

Artwork; The Lady, or The Tiger?

David unlocked his apartment's door, and swung it open, I walked in, looking around the black room. He clicked on the lights to illuminate what I assumed to be a living room. The living room only had been cleaned out and now a desk sitting up against the wall, positioned so the person sitting there could look out the living room's window, a clock mounted above the window. The rest of the room's walls were filled with framed drawings, they were beautiful.

"David." I whispered, walking up to a drawing of two people, a woman and a man. The man was hugging the woman from behind, resting his head on her shoulder, watching her cook. The woman was smiling, content. David walked up behind me,

"My parents." David said,

"They are beautiful." I said, looking back at him. "All of these pictures are beautiful." I looked back to the wall. I moved onto the next drawing, it was of a meadow lark, it's tiny chest puffed out, feathers ruffled. It's beak open in mid-song, it's tiny feet clinging to a twig. I heard him moving away from me, and his footsteps disappearing for a moment, before returning.

"Thank you." David said, "Would you like me to draw you?" I turned and watched him set down a wood chair.

"That would be nice." I said, sliding into the chair. David pulled out an easel from underneath his desk. He set a piece of canvas upon the easel, opening his desk drawer to grab a few pencils, he sat down in his own chair.

"You need to sit still for a moment." He set his pencils down, and just looked at me. His eyes roamed all over my face, causing heat to flood to my cheeks, making the faint splatter of freckles across the bridge of my nose even more prominent.

"Let down your hair." He offered softly, I reached up hesitantly and undid my bun. My hair slid down and hung over my left eye, I pushed it back off my face.  His eyes continued to gaze at me, before nodding slightly. 

"Alright. That's all I need."

I asked,  recoiling slightly in confusion, "What do you mean that's all you need? Aren't you going to draw me?"

"Yes, I have photographic memory, I already have your face memorized." David said, beginning to lightly sketch the pencil across the paper.

I slumped back in my seat, I had nothing to say to that. Sometimes, when you don't know what to say it's because that moment is meant to be silent. It's something my mother always told me, the absence of words was filled up by the sound of pencil skipping across paper.

I stood up and walked around the room, stopping to stare at the drawings as I passed them. For some, I was stooping down just to see the soft details of a flower petal or a child's smile. I glanced back to David, to tell him how good these drawings were. Yet, something stopped me. His face was so tender and open, filled with joy and concentration, his brow furrowed slightly, he was biting his bottom lip. His wavy brown hair hanging in his right eye, tangling with his long eyelashes that masked the unspoken beauty in his eyes. David's button up had the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the first few buttons undone.  He was leaning forward, hands built like bricks holding the pencil so softly as if it might break with a single touch.

"Are you staring at me?" He asked, not looking up from his work. I hadn't realized I had been watching him for a while, I was too caught up by the way he worked as smooth as a dancer, but instead of on a stage, his magic was worked on canvas.

"I-I-I was just watching you work." I stuttered, flustered and blushing.

"Mmm hmm." David hummed out, "Why were you watching me work?" He laid down his pencil and looked up at me.

"I was wondering what you were thinking about when you draw." I lied, heat creeping up my neck, I wasn't going to admit that I was watching him because I found him attractive, that would've been entirely improper of me, we just met after all.