Melissa Crumpton is a ruined remnant of the once-angelic girl. Contrariwise, Kevin Archer decamps the drudging slavery to grow into a small rate successful artist.
When the artist lays his eyes on a ruined redolent young woman, he thinks of bringing...
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Author's PoV:
At times, it feels like concealing is much better than confronting!
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Melissa pauses as she looks around the room. Her thoughts get corrupted with the haunting memories of the days here and she goes speechless for a few minutes. This little home of her had been her place of solace for the past 5 big years. These walls have heard out her mourning patiently. This floor has been drenched rich with her weeps. That ceiling above has done a great job in standing strong even after witnessing all her sadistic traumas. Apart from her boredom sobs, the walls and ceiling and floor have always tried putting into her some positivity.
Renting a fully furnished 2 bedroom apartment from an artist has its own merits. There are a lot of artistic wonders that make this little apartment an artistic Shangri la to live in. Moving in here was the only best and lovely decision she made years ago. But now, she has no time to appreciate that decision or to depreciate it as well. Thinking of that, she feels a sting of pain.
She was totally a different person then. She fancied the smell of paints, the flawless white canvas, the first stroke of colour, the dancing of flat and litter brushes, the artwork slowly springing to life, the finishing touch with hairy brushes, the contrasting bright shades, the vintage dull hue and whatchamacallit everything that's aesthetic. But now, she feels her love for art is waning in no time. She is losing her original self. Her once life is now nothing less than a memory. That isn't a good sign.
She exhales deeply as her gaze stops on an over classy double-sided clock that hung from a floral designed projection from the wall. Though it is old, they never changed it. There never is a need. It still stands beyond time, showing the time, the entire time. Now, it shows quarter to noon.
She shrugs off the captivating thoughts that can eventually bring anguish and nothing more. She hasn't had anything from the morning. Not that she feels hungry now, but...
"Kevin, you had your breakfast?" she asks.
He shakes his head negatively. "But I don't feel like eating."
Even Melissa doesn't want to eat. So, they both decide to have tea instead. She walks down to the small kitchen and turns on the kettle while Kevin follows her.
"Is that how things go there in high schools? I mean the things you do to ascend the head position," asks Kevin in a much-intriguedmanner. He turns the dinner table's chair and sits oppositely resting his hands and chin on the headrest.
"Pretty much! Being a head-girl or head-boy is a great honour in those days," Melissa thinks it stupid now and smirks at the thought. "Don't you have such ways in your school?"
