What happens when a finger painting prodigy hitches a ride from a disfigured biker? Why chaos of course!
Quirky, oddball Georgie is anything but normal. For years she hasn't only suffered from a lack of filter but she also has "episodes." She can't...
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Adonis is relaxed and calm even though I know he can see the horror and chaos in my wide shelled shock eyes. He repositions himself so he's sitting with his arm resting on his knee while the other lays on the dirty garage floor. He stares at me and I stare back.
"Forget everything you just saw."
Cocking his head and examining me, he shakes his head. "Can't do that, especially since I now know I stumbled upon that big secret of yours."
I stop breathing. It's quiet for a while between us with me staring at the floor trying to remember how to breathe and him calmly staring at me. Frustration replaces my shock and I snap. "Why aren't you freaking out? Every person who's ever seen..." I pause and stare at him. "They've been afraid of me."
His eyes search my face. His hand reaches up and slides some of my hair out of my face and stays planted at the crook of my neck as he pulls me forward until our heads almost touch. "Not much scares me, Tater Tot. Especially a little Goldilocks."
He glances back at my mural and I watch him examine it. "That's your kitchen wallpaper." I nod, but he doesn't notice and continues. "Those shredded pieces of wallpaper and how they glint... it's like I'm watching it fall."
Holding up my hand, I examine the many different paint colors sticking to the latex that barely shows its original blue color. "I've always been a mix of realism and impressionism when it comes to my style."
"How do you manage this with just your hands?" he asks with genuine curiosity.
I laugh. "I've actually never picked up a brush, believe it or not." My hands breathe as I peel off the latex. "Crazy, huh?! A painter who's never used brushes. For me it doesn't feel right. I need connection and to feel what I'm painting. I hate that extension. In that small amount of space between me and the canvas there's a disconnect. I can't exactly remember, but I've always used my fingers and I have no idea how it started, just that I always have."
He gets up and takes big steps toward it. "What did I just witness exactly? I watched you for a long time."
The night's air is cooler than earlier and I realize it's probably more towards the very early morning now. "An episode."
"Does it happen often?"
Taking a deep breath, I sigh out. "More often lately."
"Do you know why?"
I shake my head and swallow. "No, my mom never told me and I'm pretty sure she doesn't really know either." I sigh looking towards the floor then up at him. "I have no idea what's wrong with me. Only that something is."
He doesn't stop looking down at me with those all-knowing eyes. "Is that why you're here?"
I shrug. "Partially."
He nods and finally tears his gaze away from me. "It actually looks like someone put wallpaper on. You even have the line where new wallpaper starts. The detail is unbelievable."
