The Lady in The Painting

Samantha looked at the mirror parallel to her height, what reflected was a newly showered teen with blond hair in black trouser and a brown sleeved polo her best friend gave her on her 19th birthday last month. She looked one last time at her belongings before she went out of her apartment at 23rd street of Aurius City. It was her first time in a long while she had gone out as early as 5 in the morning. She had deducted the night before that she would arrive in the next city in the afternoon if she had gone out at this hour.

A handful of lights along the windows can be counted by with her fingers, an hour from now lights would burst out one after another on the buildings signifying the sun lit morning. As She walked along the streets of Aurius, she felt a sense of relaxation at the peaceful sight of the busy city complemented by the hues of dawn that covered the sky. Trees swaying from the morning breeze as the early birds flew down the pavements pecking whatever the men had left behind yesterday. Along the way she entered the empty place of Starbucks to order a coffee and a waffle for breakfast.

"Train train will depart shortly" a systematic sound spoke in the subway as Samantha sat on the seat beside the window, and true to that, six minutes later the roaring engine of the train signaled its departure.

Sitting beside the window, she saw sceneries changing before her eyes, she pondered what her plans will be as few months from now, she'll be graduating from the university and she'll be figuring everything on her own. As trees came across her field of vision, she reminisced the times where her family would hike on mountains, how her father held her hands as they walked along nooks and crannies in the rocky terrains and from the time, she and her mother had an argument over her course choice for the university and how she for the first and last vent her anger to her mother and they never talked once after that.

Tears almost came out her eyes but managed to suppressed it. She took out her sketch pad and a b2 graphite pencil and made contour of the various landscapes that passed before her to forget those painful memories. At 2 o'clock, she had arrived at the city of Sij. She had still 3 hours before the opening a major art exhibition. She took her time to stroll the city. she ate sweets at a candy shop, took a picture at the high-rise buildings like man made mountains. After that she ate local cuisines before finally stood facing the bookstore with the signage midnight library above. A chime rang atop the door as she entered waking the old man at the counter.

"Welcome" the old man said with a smile.

"Good afternoon" replied Samantha who responded the old man's gesture with a smile.

"What are you here for?" asked the old man.

"Nothing much, just browsing around" she said

"Oh, take your time then" he smiled before continuing what he was reading before he fell into a nap.

Samantha took her time walking along the old wooden birched floor browsing the books stacked with each other on the wooden shelves. It was obvious that the store was maintained regularly since the books weren't filled with dust. while reading a book, the chime rang as a man in black coat entered. "Hello grandpa Walter" he said to the old man in a cold yet sublime voice. The old man, hearing a familiar voice put his book down and narrowly looked at the direction of the voice. "John?" Walter asked. Samantha being in the same room couldn't help but eavesdrop to the conversation.

"How have you been grandpa Walter" John asked.

"Stubborn people like me wouldn't die so easily so I think I'll live for another decade" John laughed at his words.

"How long have you been here" Walter asked. "I just arrived here 2 days ago since there's an event here, I'll be attending to" replied John.

"I want you to attend too" he said in a dotingly.

"Then who's gonna watch these books" he said.  

Walter looked at the man in front of him "You've grown John, seeing you here is enough for an old man like me". "She changed me" John said "I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for her".

The room came into a still silence, when Samantha's phone suddenly rang breaking the awkwardness in the room. "Oh, it's already 5" as he looked at his phone. he turned to stare outside the window, seeing the gray clouds covering the supposed turning dusk "There's a rain coming soon" John said. "I'll better get going now" as he proceeded to hug the old man in the counter. "Take care of yourself John" the old man said as he hugged John with tenderness like how a doting grandfather hugs his grandchild.

Samantha put the book back in the shelf, waited for the man to walk out the store before she exits herself. "Thank you, mister," she said in a polite tone. "Do come back again" Walter said to her with the same smile plastered to his face. True to what John said before, the gray clouds seemed to barely hold off the stored water. Samantha looked at her bag to see her umbrella in it, a sense of relief washed over her as she saw her black umbrella inside. She hurriedly walked towards the site of exhibition, luckily, it was a hundred meters away from the bookshop.

When she arrived, she stared at awe to the sight of the exhibition ground. A large white building stood in front of them, 4 pillars spirally designed stood in front of the building, in front of it, lights hanging on lantern posts shone opposite to each other like the morning sun, the place gave her the feeling whenever she dreams of being in Paris, it was poetic and subtle in a sense. Various people entered the exhibition, some wore casual clothes, some held cameras as they went and some wore tuxedos and colored dresses. It was obvious from glance that they were people on top of social ladder. But the thing that made her dumbfounded was the extravagance of the event itself, Samantha was never informed by her university professor of this grandiose setting, she was really glad she didn't go with the decision to wear clothes and a shirt like someone going on a vacation.

"A sight to behold, don't you think so?" said the female voice beside her. Samantha turned to look at her, she saw an old woman wearing an evening wear, she looked imposing with her short white hair but the tabby cat she was holding made her remove her opinion.

"Yes" she said "I get the feeling that this was orchestrated" the old lady seems amused by her judgement.

"Why do you say so" she asked.

"Someone deliberately designed this scene to make the visitors make a lasting memory out of it" Samantha said.

"The boy hasn't really change after all these time" the lady said as she stroked the purring cat's fur. Samantha looked at her confusedly but the lady simply smiled.

"Let's come inside now, there is no point of going here if we'll only look outside" she said before going to which Samantha followed after her.

"So, what did you come here for" the lady asked as they walked along the marble stairs. "I came to interview someone for my thesis," said Samantha.

"And who might this person be if you don't mind" asked the lady curiously. "The one behind the paintings" she said.

The lady didn't talk after as they made their way inside. What welcomed her was nothing but short of wonder. Plethora of paintings were hanging on the white furnished wall as lights shone on them from above making them the spotlight on the slightly dim room. "I'll get going now" the lady said, Samantha being amazed by the sight barely realized the lady talking to her. "Uh oh yes, see you ma'am" she said as the lady's figure blended with the crowd. Samantha proceeded to go to the staff near the entrance.

"Hello sir, uhm I'm Samantha smith, a student of box university, I'm here to interview the painter of tonight's exhibition for academic purposes" Samantha expected to get snob by the staff but he smiled at her. "Pass?" he asked. Samantha took out the pass at her bag and showed it to the staff. "Follow me" the staff said.

As they walked along the hall, she saw the dark colored paintings hanging, the paintings had no shape but only streaks of lines stacked together, it had no concrete subject yet, looking at it gave her indescribable sense of loneliness. As they continued walking along the gallery, she noticed a gray painting with red dots circling around a black tower like shape with a white dot, in the middle another painting that caught her eyes was a man curling in a dark room with the cursed apple in the table similar to the witch's apple in Cinderella. Striding further she noticed a painting that stood among the others she had seen. It was a pale figure of a woman lying as white crows depicted through streaks of white surrounded her as if they were bed of flowers.

Moving forward she saw how the paintings transitioned, from dull sad theme it subtly changed to a gentler manner, what she saw were landscape paintings of places illuminated by ambient colors woven together to give a sense of beauty. She wondered how or rather what changed him to paint these captivating paintings as they neared the end of the hall, Samantha stopped her walking as she looked at the seemingly large painting that stood out from all the other paintings she saw awhile back. The painting was of a lady with her head resting on her knees as she sat alone in under a tree in the meadow looking at her, no more like she was staring at someone, blond hair draping on her head as her red soft lips perched into smile. The radiant warmth of the painting gave her bliss and a feeling of longing. And there at the moment she wanted to know the painter's life, what drove him to paint the pieces and what he felt during those times.

There they stopped behind the man standing in front of the painting. "Sir" the staff said. Samantha only noticed the man when the staff called him. The man, in tuxedo turned around. To Samantha's surprise he was the same person that entered the bookshop earlier this afternoon. "Peter" said John. The staff whose name is Peter smiled "You have a guest sir, a student from box" he said. John looked at the lady slightly behind his back.

"You must be Samantha if I'm not mistaken" his familiar cold yet soft voice reverberated along her ears.

"Yes sir, I've submitted an application for interview a month ago" she said.

 "Yes, I've read the email" he paused for a moment "I can only give you 2 hours so be sure to record everything, consent permitted" he said.

"Yes sir, we can start right away" she said as she pulled out her phone from her bag as well as the notebook that contained her questions she practiced for this day.

John once again looked at the painting in front of them as if it was a book, he wrote weaving every word with memories filling those empty pages. It was a rainy afternoon during that day, rumbling sounds of thunder were heard in the heavy clouds ready to pounce on the earth below. John looked below him, wet with his clothes from the downpour as he stood at the edge of the apartment building. He looked at the people below him in their umbrellas, lifeless. Living monotonously just to survive, tired faces everywhere. Nobody would care if he died.

The only straw that kept him from the world was his mom who died earlier this month from her brain tumor leaving him with a large amount of life insurance he wouldn't know where to use. He saw his mother suffered from an episode before dying helplessly as her life support finally rendered ineffective. He looked one last time at the world in front of him before closing his eyes as he took a step-in front. He was almost at death's embrace when suddenly, a hand grabbed his arm stopping him from dying.

"Let go!" John pleaded without opening his eyes as tears began to swell up.

"No!"  said a woman's voice "If you're going to kill yourself then do it tomorrow" she said. John opened his eyes to see himself hanging between the threads of life, panic grew in him as he looked below the 20story building.

"Calm down, look at me" she said.

John looked at the woman holding his life. Wet sundress that outlined her figure her blond chestnut hair dropping down her face as she tried to pull him upwards at the cost of her glasses which was slowly falling down her face. Maybe John was too heavy for her as she was slowly sliding down towards john.

"NO NO NO NO NO" she said in a panic tone.

John quickly grabbed on the ledge, strength flowing as blood flowed rashly. He stumbled on the ground roof pulling the lady with him. He could hear the rain falling down the ground around him as well as the rapid breathing of the person that was lying on top of him. Opening his eyes, he saw the lady looking at him with indescribable expression as if she was torn between anger and frustration as tears swelled up on her amber eyes.

Her face red "If you're killing yourself then do it tomorrow, I don't want to see a person die in front of me" she said.

"Why would you care" John said.

"A lot of people are dying from accidents and illnesses everyday" she said in an angered expression "then here you are wasting your precious life! Do you have any idea how many people are wishing to live another?" she said, finally crying.

John could not come up with an answer remaining silent. After the lady gathered herself up, she moved away from top of john as she stood up. John laid there for few moments before the lady spoke again "We should get inside before we get a cold". John opened his eyes to see the lady stretching out her hands, her eyes still red. John deliberated for a moment before taking her gesture.

"Do you live here?" she asked. "Yes" replied John in a cold voice as they walked down the stairs. John turned on the lights of the studio.

"Come in" he said with a lack of expression. The lady entered to see sketches and unfinished paintings lying on the ground making the room a little cramp she was amazed by how many they were in his.

 "Are they yours?" she asked. John didn't answer.

Smell of paints wafted in the room as John threw the things to the side to pave a way. He opened the lights in the kitchen, opened a can of coffee, put it in a brewer "Wait here" he said before going in the bathroom. He felt a little nauseous as he looked himself in the mirror a pale 22-year-old black curled hair fringed in the middle. Dark circles can be seen in his eyes yet it didn't mask off his beautiful face. He grabbed his towel in the sink before he the pulled out the drawer below taking out a spare towel and his clothes he filled the tub with hot water before going out.

"Here" he said. His voice is cold as he gave her the towel and a pair of clothing. "Bathroom's in the corner" as he sat down.

7 minutes later steam seeped out as she opened the bathroom wearing his oversized shirt and pajamas. When she arrived in the kitchen, she was shocked to see John lying on the floor unconscious. John woke up in the middle of the night in his bed stricken by a painful headache. He had a hard time moving his body. He turned his head to look around, there he saw the woman sitting on the chair sleeping beside him, with bunch of medicines in the table. He noticed he was in his bed with wet napkin on his forehead. She must've done all this. How bizarre she was doing all this for a stranger she just met earlier. John turned to look at the ceiling above him before slipping into slumber as darkness faded from the illumination of the lamp.

John woke up from the smell of the cooking in the kitchen. John looked at the window beside his room, Rain poured heavily from the outside without signs of stopping anytime soon. He tried to get up but it took a lot of effort before he slumped back to his bed his fever still there but it was more bearable compared to last night. "Don't force yourself" a voice sounded on the door in his room as the lady entered carrying soup and a glass of water.

"Why are you still here?" John asked.

"You know I can't leave you alone like that, I'll leave when you get better" she answered

"I don't even know who you are" John said. It was true, from yesterday till now she hasn't told him her name.

"Oh" the lady said. "My name is Frances but you can call me France" she said, lips beaming in a smile as she placed the palate in the table holding a bowl of soup with sliced onion stems on top. "I took the soup in your fridge if you don't mind" she said as she scooped a spoonful of it "here" she said.

"I can take care of it myself" said john as he took the bowl of soup from her.

"Your paintings were really beautiful" France said. John didn't say a word as he ate his food, seeing john unperturbed she continued "they give off a sense of sorrow in it, made me cry" she said with her eyes till red. john looked at her finally.

He said in his cold voice "when were you allowed to touch someone's belongings without consent" with brows creased. "I showed you hospitality but you should know you limits" he noticed the clothes she was in. It was different from the pair of clothes he lent yesterday. His brow creased further "and where did you get that?" he asked angrily looking at her clothes.

"But the clothes were from yesterday, it's dirty now". John was stupefied with what she said, clearly she had a plethora of clothes in her home.

After eating France gave john his medicines before proceeding to the kitchen. John was every bit suspicious of her, why was she doing that form him when they had only met yesterday and she may be deceiving with her personality but john couldn't do anything with his current state. John spent his day sleeping as the night came once more he woke up to the jazz from the living room. It was her mother's favorite. He would see her carefully pulling a disc of west end blues from the its box then play it and there he would see her humming to the sounds of it and during that moment she would smiled from all the troubles she had and john found her the most beautiful. After she died john took it from her place as well as her important belongings. When he heard the song he was reminded of the happy times he felt.

He sat there listening to the song. It was clear that France hasn't gone home yet as he could smell the cooking in the kitchen. He felt his body gradually getting better as he felt his temperature not as severe as yesterday he walked out the room feeling slightly dizzy as he made his way to the kitchen. He saw France's figure as she cooked dinner. France was surprised to see John walking out of his room she was expecting to get scolded again but instead stood at her side watching her cook.

"Glad you're feeling better" she said without looking at him.

John once again quiet but calm. She was cooking the vegetables while scrambling an egg on the other side. She was making fried rice from their leftover rice earlier that noon while mixing with the rice she sprinkled sesame oil she where john puts the condiments after that she poured soy sauce. When she thought it was all good now John brought out an oyster sauce from it placement and sprinkled it on the food. A minute later the stove turned off as both of them sat on the table listening to the sounds of the vinyl silently as they ate.

After dinner, France offered to herself to wash the plates, John went to living room. He brought out a fresh canvas as well as bottles of paints that seem to have been used frequently from the looks of it. Before john began he grabbed a piece of face mask from his room and proceeded to paint. 10 minutes later the last plate was put into place, France has finished washing the dishes. She took a glass of water to tend to John, just as she went into the living room, she saw the man staring heavily to his canvas. She approached him from behind to take a peek at his work. There were streaks of black woven together in a chaotic manner with no concrete subject.

"What's that?" asked France not expecting John to answer as she watched him. Surprisingly John didn't seem to be grumpy.

"Thoughts" he said

"Is that your thoughts?" asked France as she sat on the sofa watching John.

John didn't answer anymore as he continued his work. Throughout the night both people were lost in their own thoughts anchored by the hymns of jazz playing in the night. Morning light shone across windows revealing a messy room full of paintings at the wooden stand was a canvas like any other canvas from the room painted with threads of black the light shone more revealing the sleeping man in his bed. John woke up at 9, looking around the quiet room he wondered where France was. Last night he stood awake till 1 finishing the painting, as he turned around he saw France sleeping at the sofa with a new change of clothes.

He looked at the woman sleeping and wondered why would she go for such lengths for a man he just met the other day he looked at the red rose lips strands of hair that covered her white skin. He thought about continuing the suicide but left it aside for now. He took a spare blanket from his room and covered France with it before he himself went out to sleep. There in the sofa he found a piece of paper that contained letter from France, where it said: "I took your clothes that I used, I'll give them back tomorrow" France could've left them in the laundry but perhaps she used it as an excuse to visit again.

The room was silent once more with the sounds of memories flowing across the room, John looked at the painting in front of him, the dark thread that seemed to form a sphere. John had been painting since he was 7 and throughout the years it became his way of expressing things he couldn't express in actions nor words whenever he felt extreme bliss he would paint those memories over and all colors would be radiant and whenever he felt sad the brush would bristle off bits of paint as if it cried with him. That morning he went out of his apartment building wearing a brown trench coat, jeans and a black shirt, he walked along the pavement and across the street. There he stood in front of a shop with the signage midnight library on top.

"Ding" a sound chimed as an old man in the counter turned to look "Ah if it isn't my little boy John" as he smiled. John walked to the counter as he hugged the old man.

"Hello Walter" he said.

"I'm sorry about your mother" said Walter, as he hugged john tightly "Talk to me if you ever need anything" he added.

"Thank you" said John as he gave old man Walter a hug. "New delivered books are in the back" old man Walter said after some time.

John proceeded to go to the back. There in the back he saw the familiar face of a young boy, practicing how to read. "Peter" said John. Peter was a homeless black boy that always come in the library to look at picture books, after a while Walter volunteered to teach the boy how to read as a past time, now peter was able to read amateur books. "John" Peter said as he gave his friend a high five. "how do you pronounce this?" he asked showing him the word bourgeoisie, "it is pronounced as bor·zhwaa·zee" he said with fluent pronunciation

"What does that mean" asked peter.

"This is what you call the people in up middle class" he said before continuing. "The society is made up of social class, the upper class where the wealthy people are classified, the middle class which the mostly the mass belong to, they get enough pay to be able to save money for personal agendas and the lower class, the people who gets enough wage for basic needs or even lower than that" when peter heard that he knew where he belong and yet he was still full of smiles, was it perhaps because he was still a child ignorant of the world or rather content to what he already has.

"So, came to find another biography?" asked Peter. "Yeah" said John.

"I don't understand" Peter said before continuing "Shouldn't you be looking at their paintings for reference?" he asked.

"Not at all, sometimes one needs to know how the artist lived in order to know the beauty behind their work" said john while browsing at the books at the shelf.

As both people were busy reading with Peter periodically asking words he don't know, a ring sounded by the entrance. "Good morning grandpa Walter" a familiar voice sounded in the entrance. "Oh if it isn't France, how early for you to come here" said Walter. "I want to read a book" she said as she gave the old man a warm hug.

John having a sense of foreboding looked at the space in the shelf, there he saw an awfully familiar lady wearing a cyan blue sundress with bun tied hair, her face still the same. Suddenly looked at John's direction, surprised, he turned around quickly. "What is that?" whispered France beside his ear. John was surprised to see France beside him "Why are you here" asked John, he never encountered France here before. "Oh I recently discovered this place" she said "I was curious about the name of the shop so I entered, and now here I am trying to living a thousand lives in different worlds" with a little smug from her face

"You know her john?" asked Walter who was hearing from their conversation.

"I met her a few days ago" said john "that's all".

"Oh why don't you tell him I stayed on your place for 2 days" she said with a large smile on her face.

"What?" asked Walter seemingly going with Frances' teasing "Who's she?" asked Peter who saw the beautiful lady beside him "An acquaintance" John said to him.

John's cold face was now beet red from embarrassment. Yet he did not try to retort because he knew it would only worsen. His expression returned to being cold as fast as it went out. He took 2 more books, "The Disasters War" and "Biography of a Rebel" before going to the counter. "Here, Walter" said John as he handed out 12 bucks.  "Don't you want to talk with her?" asked Walter looking at the radiant lady inside the room browsing the books "No there's no need to" said john as he held out the bag. The same breeze washed his face when he went out. Trees swaying along the pavement as the busy street continued.

"Wait for me!" France shouted as she went out the shop after him. John stopped to look at the woman catching up behind him.

"What?" John asked. France stopped to catch her breath, sweat flowing down her snow white skin. It seemed like she was melting, john who was staring at her averted his gaze. "Here" she said as she handed out a bag panting "The clothes I borrowed".

John looked at the contents of the bag. Inside it were the borrowed clothes she took. "Now that you've given it back" he said "can you not bother me anymore please" he said with a serious expression. France looked at him unable to come up with words to say. As John turned around, he heard her saying eyeglass

"Eyeglass?" asked John.

"Yes" said France "Buy me an eyeglass as replacement for the one that fell down few days ago. do that and I won't bother you anymore" she said. It was the eyeglass that fell down when France tried to lift John up from falling.

"So you mean to say is, if I'll buy you a pair of glass, you come bother me anymore?" asked John.

"Yes" said France "I won't bother you ever" she said.

"What time shall we meet?" asked John who was internally relieved.

"Tonight at 6 pm at the park" she said smile still plastered on her bright face.

John wondered whether she would feel sadness sometimes, how could she be so bright, bright enough to be repulsed by his personality. He was sitting at the bench under the lamp staring at the lake in his frontal view, there were still people minding their own minds in this time, a lady walking her dog, a man calling someone in his mobile phone while standing looking at the children playing in front of him. He went out wearing a pair of brown trouser and a plain oversized black shirt tucked in and sandals. He took out his sketch pad as he the scenery in front of him while waiting.

He never expected for someone to come to the appointed time they set. As he looked at the view he realized how beautiful the scene was, like a still painting trapping him to its beauty. 30 minutes later a lady approached him, still mesmerized by it, it took a few hellos' before he noticed the person. France was wearing off shoulder dress as she beside him "Beautiful isn't it?" as she too looked at the nature in front of her. "Yes" said John still drawing the scenery "I always come here whenever I have time" she said staring off the distance "I like watching people here" she said. "Those fun faces they make as they play or just how people like to appreciate the beauty in the world, it's as if they don't have a problem in the world and during that time I think to myself that we are all just children in the skin of adults and that the responsibilities and expectations forced us to be like this" France realized she was deep in thought she looked at john who was staring at her.

"Perhaps you're right" he said "children are like clay that is being constantly molded by the society in a way they want to" "and perhaps it's not a bad thing, we grow up belonging to something" both fell silent as they watched the lake that reflected the silver moon.  It was past 7 when France spoke "Can I see what you drew?" john gave her the sketch pad "Wow" she said bewildered everything was detailed from the grass to the ripples of the water, the shadowing made it more realistic as if it was a photo in black and white. "you're very talented!" she exclaimed. "I did study fine arts" John said "So when are we going?" he asked.

 They've been sitting there for quite some time, yet still the number of people haven't decreased one bit. "Oh yes" she said as she stood up tidying her dress john returned his pad and pen to his sling bag as he too stood up. Both were walking along the park admiring the beauty of it. When they went out it was as if they entered a different world. They were met with the warm bustling city, various people walked on the streets as vehicles honked like mad beasts impatiently waiting for the greenlights to come. John was overwhelmed by the presence of the people in front of him.

 "John!" said France who was saying something to him but he couldn't hear it from the noise. France grabbed his hand as they made way from the busy street to back alley "Are you alright?" she asked worriedly,

"Yeah I'm fine" said John "just a bit overwhelmed" he added. Both then continue to walk on the street with France holding John's hand.

A moment later john adapted to the city. As they continued walking, they chanced upon a minivan selling takoyakis and other Asian food such as ramyeon and udon noodles. "Hey want to try that one" France while they were walking towards there. "2 pairs of 6 takoyaki cheese bomb please as well as pair of ramyeon noodles" France said to the Asian cook.

Both sat at the table looking at the steamy noodles that is giving of a rich smell. France couldn't hold back anymore as she started digging on her takoyaki as soon as the chopsticks pricked the food a puff of steam quickly seeped out from the soft insides yet France quickly ate the whole takoyaki. Not a moment later her face became red as she blew the food in her mouth, John found the situation amusing he left out a laugh. "whuff aff uff duffng" said France who looked like an octopus with her mouth's appearance. John made his way to the shop to buy her a bottle of water.

"Thanks" said France who breathed a sigh of relief, yet face still red.

"You should be careful next time" said john who cut his takoyaki to half before eating one of it.

The ramyeon came as a surprise to both, the smell didn't differ with the taste as both of them finished every bit of it. As they continued to walk towards their destination, john realized how beautiful the city was, it wasn't the city that was alive by itself it was the people living in it that gave life to it. "We're here" said France after walking some time, the shop was located slightly farther from the heart of the city. The street they were in was quiet with people occasionally walking past them towards their home. The shop wasn't big, it also looked quite new. It must've been established few years ago.

As they entered bright lights shone in the room illuminating collection of glasses in the room. John accompanied France in browsing the glasses "Which one do you think is better" as she showed him the glasses in both her hands john didn't knew much about glasses so he didn't know which one was better. "How about this" she asked showing him a cyan framed glass "or would you prefer this" as she held out a dark one. John looking at the two the cyan looked like the ones the elderly wear, he was more fascinated at the black one.

He pointed at her left hand. France tried it "What do you think?" John looked at the woman in front of her she looked…looked….looked like a snow gently falling in the lamp. John was in daze yet concealed by his expression letting out a word "Yea". The door on the shop closes as the faint voice of "Come again" sounded. John felt for the first time how beautiful the night is, how lively the people were it was the first time they weren't gray but rather radiated a warm feeling. Tonight was the last time he would be seeing France who was walking next to her, and somehow he felt something inside him. Was it really the right decision to part with her, a stranger who started to messed his autonomous life.

"What are you thinking" asked France, he was silent after walking out the shop.

"Nothing" said John.

And suddenly droplets of water fell down bit by bit and in the blink of an eye rain started to follow.  Both of them didn't bring umbrellas so they started to run to the nearest bus stop. Soaked in wet clothes they sat waiting for the rain to stop. Suddenly, France let out a laugh.

"What's funny" asked John.

"The way you tripped over running" she said bursting out laughing looking at his face which he hasn't noticed yet.

Earlier John, who had not exercised for a long time ran and tripped over due to the sudden rush of blood in his head not even noticing the mud water he fell over. His face was dark from the accident earlier with the mud water stuck in his face. John looked at the woman who was stupidly laughing unaware he was already laughing, influenced by her laugh. Minutes turned into hours yet the rain didn't show signs of stopping anytime soon. It was already 9, there were now less people on the street, shops started to close down. John looked at France who was shivering, staring at the rain. 'Here" john said as he offered his sweater to France which he kept earlier in his bag. "Thanks" said France smiling radiantly.

After a while she still hasn't wear the clothes, "What is it" asked john "Can you stand in front of me" she said with a tint of embarrassment. John understood what she meant as he stood in front of her with back turned. "Done" said France was wearing the sweater he gave with her upper clothes beside her seat. "I had fun today" said john breaking the silence, "me too" she said, "I hadn't laughed so hard like that for a while" smirking as she was remembering the events earlier. Silence once again ensued as they watched the rain fall down.

It was already 11, shops were now closed. Streets now silent illuminated by the street lights. John looked at France who was already drowsy. "You can sleep if you want to" said john "No, I'm not sleepy yet" she said with her eyes half closed. John smiled at her silliness and after a minute or 2 she was already asleep.   John was staring in fascination at the beauty of the sleeping city and felt the rain pitter patter, he wondered how France perceived the world in her view. As he stared looked at the world in front him he heard a weak cry, perhaps he misheard it but again he heard it. Looking at the surrounding he didn't see anything then something nudged his feet. He looked below to see a kitten purring.

Poor kitten must've been abandoned here earlier this day, there was a blanket near it and a small platter that contained small chunks of food. Poor kitten thought John, but he didn't want to hold it, holding it means having responsibility to the kitten. He didn't want to give the kitten false hope if a cat did ever understand a human's intention yet after a while under the shed, a woman was sleeping with her head on rested on a man's broad shoulder who was stroking a cat on his lap. The 3 pair were living their own world away from life they have been running to. It was already 1 am when a roaring engine of a vehicle came.

John opened his eyes to see a bus in front of them. "France wake up" said john but the woman didn't budge a bit, she was a log sleeping even in the situation. John carried her and the cat to the bus closing in as it started to move once again. France woke up in a familiar room wearing pajamas and an oversized shirt. She stared at the window to see the sun shining bright. She got out of the room to see john. He was in the kitchen curling at the table, curious, France went to see only to look at the kitten eating food john cooked.

"That's a surprise" France said "Where did you get the cat?" she asked. "Under the shed last night" he said. France looked at the John who was surprisingly caring for the cat.

"What happened last night" she asked "I don't remember going home" she said. "You slept after you said you weren't sleepy, I had to carry you off the bus".

"I guess we were in the situation now were we" she said to the cat as she smiled which made john's heart flutter.

"Take a shower before eating" he said as the smell of the city night still lingered from her.

"Have you decided on the cat's name" asked France as they ate breakfast on the table, a bacon simmered with apple cider and a sunny side egg sprinkled with pepper. "Not yet" john said as he ate. After breakfast, France took out her dirty clothes on the sofa "I won't bother you anymore" she said smiling yet deeply sad. John didn't know what to say as he looked at the woman walking out the room. Ever since she came into his life, everything gained color, he noticed it yet he just didn't want to believe it and now she'll be leaving.

"You know the Robert Frost's poem The Road not taken" John asked Samantha who listened to him the entire time.

"Yeah, it was about choices on which road to take".

"Yes" John said "In life, there are choices that can change your life entirely, it's about choosing whether to grow or not".

"What choice did you make?" asked Samantha who was fascinated by the woman called Frances.

The door almost came to a close when a hand slipped in between it. 'Wait" said john. France turned around to see what John had to say. John for the first time in his life experienced the beauty of life once again, he wanted a companion for it. "The cat" he said "I don't know how to take care of it".

The lady then in the corridor wearing a dark framed glass smiled. John spoke more about France, of how they traveled together, how his style of painting changed, how they grew with a tabby cat, how her mother rejected John, how France had a terminal disease and how both of them shared the same suffering. Samantha laughed and cried to the stories of them both.

"During her last year, I painted every memory of mine with her" John said "The scary thing is, no matter how much you love a person, you will be bound to forget her sooner or later" John said "The only thing left to be remembered will be the things they left behind no matter how much you deny that fact and perhaps that wouldn't be much painful as we think it is" "you see, the memories of a painter's lover will hurt him till the end of time". John couldn't forget France no matter what he does, her figure, her face and every detail of it continues to hurt him and, in that pain, he could vividly remember the beauty they had lived together.

"This was my last painting of her" as he looked at the painting in front. "What do you think of it" asked John. Samantha finally understood the meaning behind it, tears fell down her face as she looked at the beautiful thing in front.

"It's something you can look up to" she said, it was simple yet so deep.

John smiled warmly "Yes, but it's something beautiful is it not". Suddenly a cat jumped up behind him, that must be the cat be from the story he mentioned.

"What's its name" asked Samantha.

John stroked the cat gently as he turned around looking at the gallery "Fate". It was already 11 when the exhibition ended, Samantha was outside the museum holding out her phone calling a number, moments later a voice sounded "Mom" she said. John went out the museum to see his mother in law standing by the car with a chaperon standing beside her. Both hugged as both went in the car. Rain fell down after that and John looked to see the water droplets pitter patter in a warm light.