The interior of the building was designed exquisitely, symmetrically satisfying, pleasing the architect’s eyes with the golden ratio used throughout the measurements in the designs. I was standing in the home of interior design where Maths and architecture crossed roads to give birth to such wondrous intricacy for the world.
I simply took out my art board, started to sketch the symmetry of the building in the blank piece of paper. Contouring it with different hues of lines, accentuating the solid geometry- almost sacred, by channeling my inner energy into my drawings, letting the lines and strokes of mine intertwine to recreate the beauty of it into my own description.
Pouring my thoughts and heart into my work, I weaved magically across my art board, neglecting the reality that bounded me, leaving only the splendor and me, nothing in between. I immersed myself in building my version of this grandiose.
Click. Click. Click. Resumed by the shuffling of legs, my mind was distorted, I looked around me, there was no one. I turned my head around, a serene face was slapped inches away from my face. My hands instinctively pushed her away, both of us fell down.
A distinctive crack sound was audible. I scrambled to my feet, apologised quickly. Before that, our gazes interlocked, sparks were flying across the vicinity, but my heart had enough of this. I was bruised by what is known by love. Cutting our gaze short, but poorly hiding the sparks from me. We blushed, reddened by that instance.
“I’m sorry…” her voice was commanding, but with a treble-A. My eyes did sparkle a little.
“Nevermind.” I mumbled and scratched my head, “Just don’t sneak up too close to people when you are taking pictures.”
She took up her camera, caressed it in her hands. A reflection of the crack was prominent. My hands acted involuntarily, my soul knew she was the one, unlike the past. We shared another moment together, awkwardly but familiarly staring into one another’s inner most secrets.
We just sat there, a few minutes of silence past as we glared into each other’s souls, as if we were long lost lovers. I got up, extended a hand to help her up. She grabbed it instantaneously, electricity was passed. “I should be sorry for giving you a mean stare.” She still kept quiet, I torn the page from my art board and gave it to her, “Here, as a token of apology.”
She accepted it in awe, as if Christmas came early for her. Silence was still her only response. Just as I was to speak another word, “What’s your name?” she brushed her deep russet silky hair across her face, revealing her feature of a godness.
I smiled, exchanged our names, and our phone numbers.