Mirror Paintings

Any Life But This One

Helena's heels click against the marble floor with every step she takes, almost as if she were creating her own metronome. It lull's her into an imaginary state as her eyes graze each painting she passes. She used to find such light in them, but now, she can't seem to grasp it. Every painting blends into the next. She used to see such emotions and stories within the paint but now she sees money. These people sell these paintings for thousands of dollars and for what? To rip their beauty away from the eyes who need it most? To place above a million dollar piano or across from their sleek flat screen TV's?

She sees the people who come into the art gallery, she helps every one of them to fill their expensive, greedy desires. She sees the women with the Prada handbags and the men with their hundred dollar Rolex watches. Each of them only wanting another item to showcase their wealth. Either that, or they resell for twice as much as the piece's original value. The cycle has a pattern, if you were around these people as much as Helena was, you'd see that.

Her boss, Mark, snaps her out of her deep thought. "You have costumers at the register," he says with an annoyed tone. "Maybe you could stop staring and get to your job." He says as he walks away. 'Maybe you could stop cheating on your wife with your secretary.' She thinks as she looks at the hickey on the back of his neck as he walks away. She catches herself off guard, when did she become so bitter and judgmental? Oh, that's right, when she caught her fiance cheating on her with her best friend.

Helena sweeps some hair out of her eyes as she makes her way to the counter. "How may I help you ma'am?" She asks with her best fake smile. The woman looks to be in her earlier forties with faint smile lines, slight crows feet, and thick black glasses at the bridge of her nose. "I'm looking for something big yet simple." She states as she fixes a pin in her fake blonde hair. "Our minimalist artwork is in the back left corner, I can show you the way." Helena says as she makes her way out from behind the counter. Her and the woman walk towards the back of the gallery. "Here we are," Helena gestures with her hands. She assumes the woman got side tracked by the art seeing as how she forgot to say 'Thank you'.

From the cold corner of the minimalist artwork, Helena walks back to the front desk. At the front desk she finds a man a bit taller than herself. He has dark brown hair and capturing grey eyes. Besides the grey in his eyes, the man doesn't look any older than her. Helena was 23, and the man looked 23 at the most. They starred at one another for a moment, when her hair falls from its place behind her ear, she sweeps it back up, snapping out of the moment. "How can I help you, sir?" She smiles. "I'm looking for more of a mystical painting... fantasy almost." He says as he slides his hands into her jean pockets. At that moment Helena realizes that he looks nothing like the usual clients that come into the gallery. His jeans are nice, although a bit worn. He wears a black T- shirt with a small stain on the bottom right hem and a grey jacket.

Helena knew exactly where the mystical/ fantasy art section was, she'd spend most of her time there when she first came to work at the gallery. She still stops to catch a glance when she passes. "Fantasy, of course. Straight this way." They walk side by side to left corner of the gallery.

(Incomplete)