The Girl

David’s trash bin sat to the side of the room, isolated from everything else, so much like himself. Inside it was littered with things, many different things from his life. Like the Red Bull cans left over from his long nights of work. Join them were several bottles of water and an empty bottle of vitamins, as well as last weeks newspapers. He always liked to have read material for his downtime. One of his favorite things to do is to lie out in front of his fire place and read. His love of reading came second to his love of art. Crumbled up pieces of paper occupied plenty of space in the trash bin. His sketches, his “not good enough to ever see the light of day,” sketches. He would sit in this room, letting the dark devour him, and sketch. And then crumble it all up and throw it away. They were a part of him and he could never let anybody that close. There were sketches of animals and objects, dark violent skies and beautiful open fields.  But the bulk of his rejected sketches contained one thing. The girl. It was always the same beautiful, petite, blonde girl. The one that constantly filled his head, clouding his mind of anything else but herself.  There were sketched of just her with a sparkle of mischief in her eyes. Then there were some of the two of them, wrapped in a warm embrace, lying together post-coital with the most peaceful expressions on their faces.  The most intense was of her staring up at him and him doing the same, both with never-ending love shining from their eyes. Oh, how he must miss her.