Art span

They were standing in a line, one space bar gap between them and their shoulders holding the potential to stare straight at Amel's eyes through the laptop. Amel, with the back of her neck screaming pain strained her neck even more deep, close to the screen. She sailed her eyes through the lines, rereading to confirm she did not miss anything or if the lines said something else she never meant. Her nose sucked huge strides of air, flaring them back down so the paper under her chin floated softly through the desk, settling at the edge. Amel felt her nerves tighten, here fingers hard against the keyboard, she clicked on the send button and looked away from the screen, she sent it now, she realised, there was no going back, she clicked the button, she sent her email, her office will see it, she sent it finally, she realised. She took the year off and won't think about it anymore.

The flight flew from above her window, at the 10 am sky she was gazing at, Amel moved her fingers and drew circles at her rested palm, leaning a little more towards her wooden window frame, no particular aim. She watched as the milkman knocked on different doors and handed fresh cans, heard her neighbour's bird's endless chirping. 

Noticing just how much clueless she is with her decision, why did I do what I did?, Her fingers pressed her forehead, Am I not made for what I dream?. One month, 30 days have passed since she had sent her mail, breaking from her paying work and locking herself inside her apartment for the year, 30 days she wasted thinking about whether it was the right road or a mistake. Amel closed her eyelids, the picture of the papers at the edge of her desk made her imagine itself running in loops around her, the name of the hospital, the smell of medicines coming from the paper, the name of the patient...

She jerked her eyes open, gripping the pencil from the mat and walking back to the canvas with blurring eyes.

She crossed june off her calendar, flipping the page to mark the first day of july, sleeves up, she sipped the last remains of the milk and her hand begin swimming through the canvas, Amel spent the last week diving back at the basics she forgot. Never did she attend any art class, she let her art textbooks wander at mysterious places from where they never came back, but she loved art, just not all of the rules and the class. This month she hit her 28 birthday and didn't celebrate it, she dreaded that 12'o' clock, one another year older and still not standing on past promises. She let her arm move across the canvas, sketching shapes and tracing curves straight from her mind, Amel kept her fingers loose so the graphite doesn't tear the sheet with stress. Her eyes followed as the lines were being made. She wasn't sure if the product will look good, but her pencil drew the shapes, the figures, the curves, the old face, the fear.

Nights are always surprisingly quiet, even the birds staying at her neighbour's window shut silent. She stared into the blackness through her window, it has been months since she stepped outside her apartment, the walls enclosed in on her, even if she stretched or yawned, her fingertips would brush the walls slightly, she liked the apartment when she first saw it, loved the way it had space for only her, now the walls look different, feels different, tangles, suffocates, holds her neck tight.

No running away.

No running away.

No running away.

But she had to complete her promise, her monthly grocery came through online, she knew year like this, where she had to fulfil her commitments, would come so Amel went on saving money from every monthly salary, which now comes handy. It was the middle of the night, almost 3 am, she stroked one last strip of red paint and put the colour down, then the handkerchief, then she shuffled at the floor and closed her eyes into a deep sleep.

Her arm was flowing without losing the beat, music chimed through her phone, pushing her deep into her feels. She drew it, she knows it now, the bug that spells leech which made her screech for years. Her hand wasn't stopping, arm swinging up and down the canvas, finely shaping the curves and the figures until there came a visible scene of her protagonist drowning into the ocean that came from her imagination, Amel went on detailing the girls gown, the one that hazily matched her very own gown she currently wore. She dipped her brush in grey and stroked the road, Amel was stressing her brain, shoving from her very own fancies the image that haunted, upon roads she never expected drove a white four-wheeler, she painted the base white, taking another brush carrying red, she filled the red above the car, sirens feeling her ear, passing round and round and hushing the sound of her music. She painted the plus, then wrote reflected letters at the back window, the months were tracing the edge, her hiatus year closing, she needed to finish the painting, gazing at the reflected letters as the scene looked almost finished.

AMBULANCE

The painting was finished, her very own finished art, she dreamed it since her high school but left them all unfinished, she took a deep breath, as she crossed the last month off her calendar, marking her year of practising and finishing what she started, she took a deep breath and knocked the door. After a short race of cursing at her nervous sweaty state, the door sifted and slid to reveal her mother's eye on her, her mother welcomed her confused.

Amel's dress was colour stained, she was not bothered by her appearance and stepped inside, stretching her right arm and wrapping them around her mum's shoulder, her nose muzzled at her mum's clothes, the same smell after so many years, the smell which felt like a fur blanket around her, blocking all the cold away.

"What's the....issue?", her mum said, " What's wrong with the dress?"

"I want it mum", Her voice cracked and she handed the frame to her mother, enclosing another arm around mums another shoulder, " I will not think twice. I. Want. It"

She felt her mums hand bringing the painting at eye level, which always made Amel uncomfortable, letting people watch her vulnerable thoughts, though she never feared her mum's judgment, she still didn't want to show.

"Did you make it?"

"yes", that came out as a whisper.

"You didn't attend your job for a year?".

"mum!", she tightened her arms, "I needed this, I wanted to do this since school, I promised you that I'll do this, I will go, I'll change my clothes now and I will go to that competition"

Her mother brought Amel face to face, quickly Amel looked away, "Your wish", she let go of Amel.

But she wouldn't step back now, she turned, picked the frame and went through the door, she was tired of making excuses, it didn't concern her if her painting got the consolation price or be rejected, she wanted to give it now, this was her choice, once and for all, she'll go. She won't overthink, she will just submit it.

Her mother called her name.

"listen", she said, "You already completed the promise when you handed me your painting", the corner of her mother's lips turned up, "which made you feel proud enough to frame it"