Caroline

Robert stood back, frowned, humphed, head on one side, then the other, then deftly popped the paintbrush between his lips and turned the entire orange canvas upside down on the easel. Again he stood with head on one side, closed one eye, then the other, wrinkled his nose and eventually reached forward and delicately dabbed the darkened brush to join the lines on the very satisfying backdrop.

This had to be right. It had to be perfect and there was no doubt that it would be unique. The oranges seemed to have just mixed themselves and Robert knew he would never be able to recreate the effervescent, depth and richness of that scene.

Much like Caroline. As Robert’s mind wandered, the picture on the easel became the slum streets of Mexico nearly five years ago where Caroline had first set eyes on a young, adventurous, and ruggedly handsome specimen of humanity! They’d been happy in Mexico. She was vivacious, happy, spontaneous. After two ecstatic, energetic years she’d agreed to return to his home country and it was then he discovered, despite his unfailing, devoted love, how wild and free she was. She ran with him, but he couldn’t hold on to her……

Robert righted the canvas and smiled. Caroline was a good memory, but she needed to be free, and he would never find anyone as bold, as deep, or as comforting.  The orange canvas smiled back as the shadowy characters galloped on. 

(Image from  http://creativewriting.ie/writing-exercises/ Writing Prompt 19th March 2012)