My Painter

 

‘Afraid!’

‘Why?’

He interrogated while wiping out my tears.

‘Past!’

I answered with a single word.

‘Zara that has gone. Forget it now.’

His fingers were producing friction between my hairs.

‘I have. I have forgotten it. But the broken and shattered soul of mine is not leaving me. I want to slaughter it.’

I became over-hyped, over-aggressive. It seemed like I was really going to slaughter the cracked soul with a sharp-edged knife.

‘To kill it is not the solution. I have an idea.’

He said while wiping out my tears again.

‘Share immediately.’

Now my over-aggression was changed into over-excitement.

‘I will recolor and refill your soul.’

How can a person recolor a deep black soul? His idea was cracking up at me.

‘The blackness of my soul will absorb all your colors, my painter. Black can soak up all the colors. Blackness is an enemy of colors.’

He was checking temperature by putting his palm on my forehead.

‘I will absorb every chunk of blackness prevailing in your soul and then recolor the transparent soul with my colors.’

He was smiling and his eyes were flashing.

‘ Mine painter.’

I also laughed with tears in my eyes.

‘Your past absorber too.’

He wiped my tears again.

‘I am wiping them for the last time. Now,’

I interrupted him.

‘Now I’m going to laugh and giggle for throughout the life. I can complete your sentences.’

From over-agression to over-excitement, now I was over-confident.