The man in the café dipped a finger into his coffee and painted the portrait of a woman on a brown paper napkin. As I sat looking over his shoulder, he talked about her Jamaican skin, full lips, wide smile, and beautiful teeth. His memory painted large latté breasts, prominent hips, and long legs. He confessed he didn’t know why she had left him. Some silly argument, he guessed. I told him I didn’t think she would like the painting. He laughed and said that on this napkin she was his and his alone. Rejection simply wasn’t in the picture.
Pamela Kennecy
23/4/2021 12:14:44 pm
I liked his outlook...sometimes you just have to suit yourself.
Susan F. Reid
23/4/2021 01:35:11 pm
Jim,
Mary Wallace
23/4/2021 03:04:51 pm
A very visual piece. I hope he enjoys the napkin. Well written Jim.
Ed N. White
23/4/2021 03:50:03 pm
Ah yes, napkin memories. They're a beautiful thing. Nice story, Jim, good images.
Krystyna
23/4/2021 04:20:29 pm
Ah napkins, the stories they tell visually. Good one, Jim!
Swapan k Banerjee
23/4/2021 06:29:06 pm
The painter in you comes out loud and clear, Jim.
Jim Woessner
23/4/2021 11:44:26 pm
Thanks, Swapan. I shouldn't be surprised that so many of my stories are ekphrastic in nature.
jane reid
28/4/2021 02:28:43 am
Well, you just expanded my vocabulary.
Kim Favors
23/4/2021 08:54:33 pm
Well done!
Jim Woessner
23/4/2021 11:45:03 pm
Thanks, everyone.
Sue Clayton
24/4/2021 02:58:26 am
The camera of his eyes would never reject the image of this painted woman so well described on a paper photo.
William George Sells
25/4/2021 05:30:23 pm
He didn't write her number down, did he? Comments are closed.
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"Classic"
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