317 Stay With Me at Least Like That. (2/2)

From a desk drawer he took out a small cardboard box and opened it, inside there were some photos of different sizes and formats. Marcus began to sort through them, carefully looking at each.

He saw any of them more than one hundred times, but each time he told himself that this was the first time.

His eyes settled on a small picture, the size of a palm, the man smiled and a small chuckle flew off his lips, ”God, you got a silly face here,” he commented on a photograph of a young girl stuffing herself with an ice cream.

Marcus put this picture aside, and put the others back on the table, and then sat on a chair in the center of the room. In front of him was an easel with a clean canvas, several palettes and a glass with brushes of different sizes.

The man attached a photograph to the lower edge of the canvas, picked up a brush, dipped it in paint and touched it with a white canvas.

A few hours later, Marcus put the brush in its place and looked at his work with a smile. The picture he painted from the photograph turned out to be much more beautiful than its original source. Any stranger would freeze in admiration, the girl in the picture looked so realistic.

Anyone but not Marcus.

A smile faded from his face as the man's fingers touched his still wet paint. The surface of the canvas was cold. No matter how lively the girl seemed, with a touch it became clear that this was an illusion. Her ruddy skin and clear eyes were just soulless strokes of paint on the canvas, devoid of the heat of the human body.

All this was only self-deception.

But at the moment, even that was enough for Marcus.

The man got up from his chair and lay on the sofa, his gaze focused on the picture. The girl from the canvas was looking at him as if alive. Her eyes were narrowed from the bright sun, her hair was disheveled, a straw hat was on her head, and in her hand, she was holding a large cone with several balls of ice cream.

So beautiful.

”Stay with me a little bit. At least like that,” the man whispered, knowing that he would not receive an answer to his request, closed his eyes and fell asleep.

. . .