A Picture

     I spent years looking at that damn picture. I spent hours in a day just looking into her honey eyes and asking her to give me something to write about. There was something about them, blue and sullen like she was lost in something. Her soul was hurting and I couldn’t do anything about it. She was immortalized this way.
     Sometimes I just looked at the curves of her face, they were angular but still somehow feminine. Her nose was perfect, a gentle slope. Her hair waved around in perfect ginger tendrils, curling at the ends only. It brushed against her collarbone which was perfectly fair and faultless. If I could have touched it, it would have been the smoothest skin I had ever brushed.
     I noticed the picture even when I was just passing by, it always seemed so lonely. It needed my company, but I only gave it my full attention when I was trying to work. I always sat down across from her with the intention to get a full days writing in. I barely made it past the first lines of my stories, she wouldn’t let me.
Today she let me write. I’ve never wrote so much as I did today. She gave me the inspiration to my story, her story. Years worth of looking deep into her eyes, straight into her soul, has created this story deep inside me. Today it needed to get out of me. Her generosity will not be forgotten. Her story will now be immortalized next to her portrait.