Pomme Terre

"Don't distract me, please..." he muttered underneath his breath. His eyes squinted with exaggerated concentration as he dipped the paintbrush with a tinge of grey, mixing a new tone on his good ol' palette. A palette that he rarely washes. If the colors caked up, he would just add water and summon his creative judgment to refine the tint or shade that he needs. As for his paintbrushes, he always rinses them after every use.

I watched Cliff closely, with amusement and admiration.

"But you would be distracted without me," I sang softly with my lips near his earlobe, fixing my eyes on the canvas he was working on, barely touching him. It looked like the beginning of another abstract art. To an untrained mind like mine, it absolutely made no sense. But once a while, he would share his imaginations and explain the concept behind it. And sometimes, it has no meaning at all. Whatever it is, I would be careful not to accidentally touch him, lest he makes a wrong stroke on the canvas and blames me for it. He did that before. The punishment? I had to go camping with him.

He smiled, never taking his eyes off his artwork.

Gosh. What a beautiful man. How did he ended up with me? Not that he made a bad choice, I'm not ugly. It's just that I am not those regular girls who spend a lot of time or effort in front of the mirror doing my hair or make-up. But yeah, I do spend a lot of time in front of another kind of mirror, in the gym. That was where I met Clifford.