These Five Stand Alone

A couple of weeks ago Chad, Lisa and I went up to the gallery where Chad's art was being displayed and wrote a number of short stories about the various works. I wrote eight stories in all and I will eventually post them all here. But I want to get pictures of the pieces that inspired these stories to post alongside. The five stories I am posting today are ones that I feel can stand alone, art or no art. But these are much more meaningful to me when one has seen the art and heard what it has said directly. The titles of these stories are the titles Chad gave his pieces.



COMFORTING TOUCH / WHY DO I PULL AWAY?

"Look at that guy over there."

"Yeah, what a fat slob."

"Dude, I dare you to go over there and touch him."

"Touch him? Are you nuts? That's sick!"

"Come on. I bet he wouldn't even feel it."

"Seriously, he looks like a toad. He's just staring blankly into space."

"Fine. I'll give you five bucks if you do it."

"Five bucks? Alright. But you better pay up. When's the last time you think anyone's touched that guy?"

That's exactly what the fat, toad guy was thinking just before he got up and walked home.



I FEEL PASSION / YOU ARE GRACE

Why does everyone think I'm beautiful? I mean, I see practically why they say that. I look in the mirror on occasion. But do people say it just because everyone else does? Is there some sort of beauty equation that I'm not aware of? Has there been an oral tradition, handed down over the years, that has created and shaped the accepted definition of beauty? I don't know the answer, but I know what I am and that is beautiful.



YOU TURNED YOUR BACK / I PICKED YOU UP

That was the final straw. She had had it, though she couldn't explain why. There he was, so comfortable and confident and lacking in nothing. But he still didn't fill her with passion. She turned away from him, searching for a painless way to end things. Painless for him. And painless for her. But things don't always work out the way you plan them. He reached out and touched her shoulder. Lightly at first and then pleasantly firm. And the passion that she didn't think existed started to glow like a long forgotten ember. And once that fire started to burn, there was no putting it out.



SO MUCH TO CONSIDER

He had to think everything through. Thoroughly. That's why she loved him. That's also why she hated him. See, she was nothing like that. For her, things flowed freely. Conversation. Decisions. Wine. Love. But he agonized over everything. Fish sticks or taquitos? Should he have another drink? When will she discover that he is an unworthy companion? But she stays true to herself. She pours another glass of wine and decides that whatever will be, will be. And he stays true to himself. He goes to bed early. And lies awake for most of the night. And decides that whatever will be, will be.



I'M FOUND WHEN YOU SEE ME

Does he even remember what I look like? Does he remember what it feels like to feel me? To be felt by me? When he is alone, am I one of his Top 5 thoughts? Have I ever been? Will I ever be again? I can still smell his scent. Does he remember mine? Does he even care? Do I? Does he remember the way he used to say my name? Does he remember my name? Does he remember who I am? Who I was? Who I can be? Does he remember what we had? Does he remember?