Drift With Me (bxb)

Eyes Like The Sun

When I finally got off of work, I took the bus home, listening to classical music on my phone the whole ride there. When I got off at my stop, I waved to the driver and stepped off onto my street. I walked another minute until I got to the old apartment building. I dragged my feet up to the twelfth floor and my heavy hand turned the slightly bent key to my door. As I stepped inside my little home, I felt a wave of relief. I kicked off the dress shoes that had been pinching my feet and took off the three large coats, placing them on the back of my kitchen chair. A purring kitten came bounding towards me and I quickly shut the door; Maxi was my only companion. It was a little sad really, but the small orange kitten was the sole being that managed to like my company as well as enjoy the quiet I surrounded myself in. I knelt down to pet her fuzzy orange fur, and she arched her back in excitement as I ran my hand down her tiny back. A large smile made it's way up onto my face as I stood back up, forcing myself to go take a shower.

My body was aching from my shift, all that waiting tables and filling and re-filling large mugs of beer and liquor. I stepped into the warm shower, the soothing feeling of water trickling down my naked body finally giving me much needed relaxation. I let out a long sigh as I stood there, soaking in the peace.

After I finished my refreshing shower I went into the kitchen and scavenged my fridge for something to eat. I found a take-out box from a few days ago and warmed it up in the microwave. I wasn't much of a cook, so I had either been eating pretty bland meals or take-out. It was really unhealthy, I know, but I'd rather use the time spent on cooking, painting. I scarfed down the rest of the food, which wasn't really enough, and walked to my spare room where I had set up a studio.

I chose the room with the best view and the biggest window so I could paint while looking down at the magnificent Russian skyline. The city lights were shimmering through the window, illuminating the room with a wondrous glow. I had hung tapestries and little Christmas lights from the ceiling and walls and in one corner, a little red beanbag chair was slumped up against my stereo and a shelf that held hundreds of small paint cans and brushes of various sizes. In the center of the tiny room was my easel. A large canvas with the oil painting of the woman lying in the meadow was propped up on it. I spent a lot of time in this room. The smile never left my face as I happily grabbed a jar filled with water and picked out a brush. I started to put little dollops of blues and purples on a board and my hands began to paint. The slow hum of a violin played out into the room through my speakers and I had a small cup of wine precariously perched on the wobbly shelf beside me.

I must have spent hours without realizing it because soon the sun began to peak over the horizon, bringing a soft yellow light in through the window as I finished the painting.

BEEP BEEP BEEP... My alarm clock screeched through the quiet bedroom waking me up with a racing heartbeat. I had went to bed around seven in the morning, lost in concentration while painting, and the life drawing session that I went to was starting at eleven. I looked at the clock and it read 9:00 a.m. I sighed as I slumped my body into a sitting position, grumbling to myself as I dragged my feet out of bed, all the while disturbing Maxi who was sleeping at the end of it. She meowed at me as I stood up, she was looking for food. I smiled and she followed me out of my small bedroom into the kitchen.

"Good morning, girl." I said happily to the ginger kitten, her soft body twisted through my feet as I leaned down with her food bowl. She let out a cute meow and I laughed at the little cat that I grew so fond of. I once again peaked into my fridge but found nothing, leaving disappointed with a pang of hunger in my stomach.

I walked back into my room and got dressed, putting on a knitted forest green crewneck and a grey scarf with black jeans. I left my wavy black hair down so it curled just beneath my jawline, accentuating my strong features. After I washed my face I grabbed my messenger bag that held all my sketching supplies and slipped on some boots, ready to brave the winter outside my door.

I walked the frost-bitten streets of Moscow, turning down several busy roads and enjoying the bustling atmosphere. The business of it all seemed to remind me that there were so many people out here, so many lives, so many different faces; it was almost surreal. I crossed another side street until I came upon a rundown alleyway where a large, weather-worn sign read: Angelo's. It was one of the few live nude model open studios. They were often places that the government frowned upon and eventually shut down, so the dwindling studios that were left gathered artists from all over the city. I was lucky enough to have stumbled upon Angelo's when I was walking home from work a last year and I have been coming here every week since.

I walked through the wooden door and into a large, well-lit, open room where there were about twenty easels with stools set up around a small wooden platform in the center of the room. There were already quite a few people setting up and I walked over to an open one at the front, near the model's platform. I took out my large sketch book and placed it carefully on the easel and set out my range of pencils and charcoal. Next to me a young woman, about my age, sat down and looked over at me with a smile, opening her mouth slightly as if she was going to say something. I quickly gave her a half-smile back nervously and looked away. I started to concentrate my gaze on my canvas ahead of me when I noticed the model coming out from behind the change room curtains.

My first thought when I saw him was that he had eyes like the sun.