Painting Paper Hearts | ✔

Chapter 2- Price Tag of a Broken Heart

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I hated Mondays.

And there was nothing more disheartening than sitting in a professor's drab four wall office on a Monday morning.

I had been eyeing a baseball player bubble head for over five minutes, hoping it would entertain me as I tap my feet to the rhythm of the figurine.

I couldn't grasp the fact that Miss Monte had been teaching Art History for over twenty years, yet her expertise in her field did not reflect in her personal space. I shrugged off the thought.

Talk about ironic.

The door swung open and my body immediately straightened. Miss Monte, my Art History professor walked in. Her blonde mane had lost its luster through age which she had bound together in a tight up-do. She wore her usual gold plated brooch on top of her dark brown vest which kept on shimmering whenever the sunlight hit it. I thought it accentuated her pale, ivory skin. Miss Monte's green eyes glinted as they caught mine.

"I dare say that I admire your bravery, Miss Wren," she began as she rested a canvas near her desk. I glanced over the side of her sable coloured desk, only to make my heart's fresh wound cut open at the sight of it. My mouth dried as I sensed Miss Monte's obvious remark. It slowly sank into my pores; her immense discontent suffocating me. Suddenly, the air felt thick and my feet couldn't stop tapping as if it was dancing to its own beat.

I shouldn't have given that piece of crap.

"But I am certain that I repeated that any form of nudity is not allowed in your assignment. While I am encouraging you to limit the horizon of creativity but unfortunately, this kind of masterpiece is not for my class. I do not condone this matter, Miss Wren. You will lose a quite amount of points for breaking an important rule," every word from her made me lower my head, my cheeks heating up.

I licked my lips and swallowed hard. "I'm really sorry. I can recreate something else in place of that," I looked up and pointed at the canvas.

She shook her head side-to-side and leaned back to her faux leather chair. "I'm afraid that won't do. It will be unfair to other students and almost impossible." She smiled bitterly. "Especially with a tainted heart," she continued.

There was a piercing silence for a little while with only the faint sound of the printing machine from the neighboring office.

"However, Miss Wren, I have a unique offer for you. A colleague of mine works as an Art Director at a museum in Toronto called "Toronto Art Museum". Every other year, the owners host an auction for their business clients. I must say that the owners and their clients are meticulous and quite a challenging market to reach."

"This year, they want to give amateur painters and sculptors a chance, but he needs a few more original creations that will tie his concept together, which brings me to my other agenda of sending you here in my office," she stretched an arm, reaching for the painting.

Her whole explanation made me arch a brow. "Which is?"

"If you allow it, I will send him a picture of your piece and your contact information. I think his concept needs something like this— innocent yet daring, a little rough on the edge but heart-wrenching when you really look and understand the painter's heart. I'm sure someone will be able to understand this art," her voice was soft and tender and her eyes were deeply locked in my original work. She spoke like she understood my pain at the time. Maybe Miss Monte had a loved one that had also betrayed her.