@racheltuckerrr sent me this on message : artist!kara with severe amnesia who keeps painting the same woman in every one of her works (even if its the 1 clear figure in a crowd or a distant face looking thru a window, its always her) all the details are there almost as if the paintings are alive, but she has no idea who the woman is. one day a young man comes into her shop and asks her how much for all the paintings and when she asks why he wants them he just looks at her with an incredible sadness that has no business being expressed on such an innocent face. its only three days later that kara realizes that his eyes were the exact shade of that of the woman she keeps painting
The woman is always clear and bright, in a world where the colors are dull and bland. She has silky flowing blond curls and deep sparkling green eyes, a witty smirk gracing her lips and a sense of power glowing from her posture. She’s often lost in the middle of a crowd or alone in an empty office, an empty living room and even a kitchen sometimes. She smiles and she looks happy, in every single composition Kara paints with a sense of urgency that breaks her brushes and shakes her colors on the canvas. She doesn’t want to forget the face of that woman she can’t seem to recognize, the familiarity of those features making her heart aches for memories she doesn’t have anymore.
One day, a young man enters the shop and he looks strangely familiar as wellbut by now, she is used to the fealing and she simply smiles at him, asking if she can help him. His voice is soft and gentle but she sees the tide in his baby blue eyes, the waves of grief and loss, and she wonders what tragedy he hides behind his forced smile. He doesn’t even look around before asking to buy every single painting and she wants to ask but somehow, his tensed jaw and closed fists silence her and she just nods. She sells him everything and then he leaves, after one last lingering look and a melancholic broken smile.
It’s only days later, when she finishes another painting of the mysterious woman, that she realizes he looked like her, like that blond silhouette she keeps drawing every day since the car accident that took her life of memories away.
(I couldn’t fit everything in 5 sentences so, here you go. I cheated, SORRY –
not sorry–)I couldn’t help it @lost-your-memory:
He isn’t going today, he tells himself as he collects his own coffee from Noonan’s. By the time his assistant fetches it, the latte is already lukewarm. Definitely not this time, yesterday was the last time, Carter promises in his head as he rides the private elevator to the 40th floor.
Published
Question of Smoke 