#93 Luna

by Lorena Flores-Knight

Luna stood in front of the painting far too long. This time, the tears refused to come, and she was grateful. She was numb instead of sad now.

Luna missed the opening of his show to avoid confrontation. No matter how badly things had ended, she would support his artistic endeavors.

The first time she saw the image, she couldn’t believe it. She came back six times to study it, and the gallery guards were taking notice. This had to be the last time.

She stared hard at it and blinked; her eyes still dry. Luna always wondered what he truly felt about why things ended, and here was his blame hanging on a public wall.

Angry strokes.

Twisted hips.

Invisible heart (if there at all).

Tainted uterus.

Broken egg.

Dripping yolk.

Raised arms—in anger (or was it anguish)?

Certainly not her arms. They belonged to the shadow looming behind the cracked egg.

It had been nearly three years since she stood in the same room as him, and she signed the paperwork like any good wife would do, or undo.

Luna took a tentative step closer to the canvas. The vigilant guard cleared his throat. She ignored his hint of a warning and remained too close to the painting. Defiantly, Luna reached out and touched the yolk on the canvas. Her eye twitched then froze.

“Sorry, Ma’am. You can’t touch the art,” the guard snapped.

“How much for it?” Luna demanded.

Son and Moon is not for sale.”


JRVogt said...

Intriguing interpretation with some excellent details.

Deb said...

I almost skimmed over this one when I saw the word painting at the beginning, but I'm glad I didn't. Excellent choice of words and pacing to convey the emotions of loss. One of my favorites so far.

Monica Segura said...

There's poetry in your descriptions and a smooth narrative flow - I wanted to keep reading and stop to linger simultaneously. Excellent execution!