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Happy Birthday CC!

Coffee Slinging Cinephile seeks Longlost Lover

Christian worked his way through art school as a barista. Sometimes he’d sing a few bars of an Eighties hair metal song when the tip jar was empty and rake in just enough coin to cover his parking at the college for the week.

He’d found true love in high school but she was getting in the way of his dream of being a world renown artist of all mediums so he’d let her go. Truthfully he couldn’t sculpt to save his life, but he could sketch, paint and drum like nobody’s business. He’d made a name for himself by creating paintings of olives acting like people, but some other dude out of California had stolen that idea and now he was back to stretching canvas and silk screening for whatever commissions he could get.

His high school sweetheart recently tweeted a picture of herself next to the Eifel Tower with the words ‘Living the Dream’. That picture inspired him to create paintings of the Eifel Tower in bed with various other monuments. Sometimes it was wearing a thong, sometimes fishnet stockings, in one painting it was standing on a street corner in a dimly lit graffiti tagged brick walled miscellaneous neighborhood.

He wasn’t planning on selling the paintings when his agent posted them online without his permission.

His high school sweetheart retweeted the pic of the Eifel Tower laying on a heart shaped bed in a seedy Vegas motel with a speech bubble sporting the words ‘Baise moi’ and winking at the viewer of the canvas. She’d added the hashtag ‘OMGWTFBBQ’ and CC felt his heart sink to the pit of his stomach when he saw it.

When his agent posted a pic of his newest work of the Eifel Tower getting fisted by the Washington Monument, CC’s phone started blowing up. He began creating a collection of the Eifel Tower’s sexcapades, his favorite being a 48 x 36 inch canvas depicting the Eifel Tower pre gangbang with the Lincoln Memorial, Michelangelo’s David and the Statue Of Liberty wearing a strap on gathered in a half circle surrounding the tower.

He skyrocketed to rock star status in the art world overnight and the onslaught of requests kept him busy for months until he found himself alone, staring out the window of his penthouse and creeping his high school sweetheart’s twitter. She hadn’t acknowledged him since.

After downing a bottle of imported French wine he smashed the glass over the fireplace mantle and staggered toward a blank canvas. “Forever” He painted in tiny scrawling red letters. Focusing on that word he painted a small section of beach on a secluded island with tree adorned mountainous inactive volcanoes in the background. He’d thought of it so many times since high school that he didn’t have to put any effort into the brush strokes, he was painting from a memory his heart held dear that he’d never make into reality.

If it tormented his soul he didn’t plan to reveal it on this canvas. The jagged palm fronds fanned out dramatically overtop a man and woman at the center of the canvas. The man wore a black tuxedo and the woman had a petite hourglass figure hidden in a white Sunday Rose wedding dress. It might have been the couple’s first wedding dance had they not been alone on a beach in each other’s arms.

Christian could almost breathe in the cool saltwater as his hand painted, his eyes glossed over, his heart pounding with the rhythm of the song in his head that always played when he thought of dancing with her. He thought of the way her hair faintly held a shampoo scent when they danced and it always made him smile. A string of paper lanterns dangled between two palm trees provided a subtle ambiance for the couple to dance barefoot in the sand.

Atop the word ‘forever’ that had started the painting, CC painted his own heart and covered it with a white button up shirt enclosed by the jacket of his tuxedo. The beauty of the tiny painted couple next to the vastness of the volcanoes, the ocean and the idea of the two of them against the world brought his hand to drop the brush and forced him to step back and look at what he’d created.

This painting was too personal to ever share but too important not to share it. It had, after all, kept him going through endless nights of his head hitting the pillow alone in a hurricane of thoughts, his mind never seemed to stop whirring except for when he closed his eyes and thought of the scene he’d now brought to life on canvas.

He’d hang it over the wine stained spot on the wall over the mantle and look at it on those nights when his whirring mind wouldn’t cease to bring up the past, bills, demands from his agent and other things he couldn’t control.

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