This story was supposed to be for a particular image, but I've decided to use a different character from the painting above. Can you guess which one? (Musecrafters Workshop Challenge 10/22)



He sat at the table with the others, straw hat pushed back off his forehead, sprawling with the chair turned backwards, clutching the back with both hands like he was steering a massive boat out to sea. He might as well go off on the ocean; he was that inaccessible to me, chasing after that wench.

He had no idea how I loved him. It wasn’t that he was a strong man or a handsome man. It was his smile. I loved the way his moustache twittered above his lip when he spoke, full white teeth glaring out, open, expressive. His blue eyes, light, almost as white as the clouds that floated across them when his mind wandered... He was a gorgeous man from within, a sensitive man, a caring man.

I leaned over Sarah to speak to those at the table and his cologne wafted up my nostrils, making my blood race, pumping like an oil well blowing its top. He, on the other hand, sat cooly, studying Sarah through the corner of his eye, never guessing how my heart was about to explode. Foolish man! We could be so good together. We would keep it quiet so no one knew. He could even jaunt about with Sarah on occasion if he wished, to keep up pretenses and hide our affair. I would take whatever he would give me, really. It’s a sorry day for a young man like me, having to cloak my heart and pretend to be different from what I am. I’ll never be permitted to be me, and he’ll never know I love him.

Copyright 2007 JO Janoski