Thursday, October 14, 2010

new assignment


new assignment: the sketchbook project
assignment guidelines: http://www.arthousecoop.com/sketchbookproject/
assigned theme: coffee & cigarettes (predictable, i know)
assignment progress: two pages (front and back) filled. 100 or more so to go?

this is spread II.
who do you think you are, my boss?



Sunday, October 3, 2010

The Coat


I.

"That’s a surprising choice for you.” They were out. He was talking about her new coat. This was right before he tipped the table by accident, knocking her lemon drop martini all over her ballet flats and shattering the glass. Her feet were drunk by the end of the night. They kept wanting to runaway.

II.

In the morning light, she couldn’t discern between the stains left by the coat’s former owner and the fresh ones made from the night before. It was a camel vintage Burberry trench – a real find – purchased for $35 at the Arthritis Thrift Shop on the Upper East Side. When she slipped it on for the first time in front of the mirror, she felt like “the girl” from that beloved French novel who put on the man’s fedora and never parted with it again.

III.

First October chill in the air. She pulls the coat tighter around her; a waif. It was cut for someone with a heavier frame. The wind blows and she puffs up like a tent. The old lady’s coat makes her look even younger than before. Last night, while they smoked Marlboro reds under the fluorescent light of the fruit and vegetable stand at the corner of first and seventh, he asked her if she wanted a cucumber to be charming. “No,” she said and kept the rest of the thought private in her head, “I want to steal one.”

IV.

Alone on the train back into the city, all she can think about is taking a long hot bath. She imagines climbing into her shower fully clothed, coat and all. Under the steady stream of water, every sign of ash and grime and grease would simply evaporate, leaving her spotless and wrinkle free.

V.

Walking home from the station, she stops at the grocery store and fills her cart with cans of soup and bags of frozen vegetables to last the week. She looks conspicuous among the regular Sunday shoppers – families with young children, couples who have cohabited long enough to know one another’s preferences in pasta and milk.

VI.

By now her feet have sobered up. They plod sensibly up the stairs of her five floor walk-up and make their peace with the familiar wooden floorboards in her studio. She hangs the coat in her closet and turns on the water in the shower.