The Art of Human

Coffee Cup

I received a invitation call to meet someone.  I know the individual because we are in a loose group of Art workers.

When we met the guy fidgeted and hardly made eye contact while my cinnamon buns and black coffee disappeared. Days come with only so many minutes. Mine were ticking away.

The brown bag on the table must have appeared when I looked at my iPhone.

I ignored the bag.

The conversation went one sided, his way.

The guy asked me if I forgave easily.

Depends, I replied followed by a little more coffee.

At that moment I thought he had stopped breathing. He was building up to something. I have distaste for that sort of suspense. It does not go well with pastry.

He spoke a bit at a time. He had done something with one of my Art pieces.

Oh, here we go.

On purpose he snagged one of my ‘free art’ pieces.

Yeah, Buddy and then what?

And he hacked it.

He had his copy of my work in the bag.

It was shocking. He did a better “me” than I did. I told him so.

That’s Art. It happens all the time, just never so face-to-face.

He breathed. He smiled. He is also a better person than I am.

Now I know how to claim some of that “soul clearance” that comes with closure, confession, if you like.

I told him up front I intended to copy him.

I am looking forward to an interesting future.

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