A Kiss

He looked at paintings on walls; old and some contemporary. There was one that grabbed his attention particularly. It was a clear blue body of water. Just stood there gazing at it. He wanted to take it down and carry it home, but, it wasn’t for sale. It was to look at, admire.

It was a French painter; couldn’t pronounce the name. He’d been to Paris, but, never saw a body of water in France. He knew they were there, just as the painter painted, however, he never saw it in person. Made him want to go to Cannes, sit on the beach, maybe wade in the water. Just something peaceful.

The painting brought him serenity. Everything in his head stopped. The constant babble, silently talking to himself, stopped. You could say he was carried away by the painting. He wanted to kiss it.

And, he waited for the security guard to leave, that wasn’t happening. The man in the blue suit jacket kept looking at him as if he knew his thoughts.

Have you been there before?, the tall black man asked him.

No, he said. I have not.

Looks nice don’t it?

Yes, very nice.

I know you like it, but, you’re standing too close. We get nervous when people stand too close, the guard laughed, he backed away. Makes you want to jump into the water doesn’t it?, he nodded his head.

Thank you.

Alright.

The guard turned his back quickly to walk away. The man quickly kissed the painting. Felt the smoothness of the paint. He touched his thin lips to it. And, he felt cleansed.

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