WFMAD - Entry #2

Today's assignment: Pick a painting by Picasso and write about it. GO!
Start time: 11:16 p.m.

The loneliness and solitude became almost unbearable at times. She slipped off one shoe and placed it on the shoe rack, where all the others were perfectly lined up. Why? What was the point? She grabbed her other shoe and threw it across the room, hitting the wall. Hard. What IS the point? She snatched a sandal from the shoe rack and threw it, this time hitting the polka-dotted lamp shade that was supposed to brighten the room. Another knocked over an empty picture frame, glass shattering as it hit the tile floor. She threw another, and another, before realizing that the more she threw the more she'd have to eventually retrieve and replace in their proper place because she wouldn't be able to sleep without everything in its place. Tina began undressing, slipping off each piece of clothing, folding it neatly and placing it on the back of the rocking chair in her bedroom. She sat in the middle of the room, turning away from the full-length mirror next to the closet. Just this morning,while getting dressed she had studied herself, taking in her features from head-to-toe as a suitor might. She wasn't supermodel beautiful by any means, but she wasn't unattractive either. This morning she had actually given herself a small smile in the mirror before leaving for work downtown. But now she couldn't stand to look at herself. She crossed her ankles, hugged her legs close to her chest, and rested her forehead on her knees. Her. Heart. Hurt.