Wish I Were Heather ✓

T h r e e

~ Vincent ~

"Wow! Vi, your painting is really beautiful!" Heather exclaimed as I showed her the painting, which I'd completed during the weekend.

"Thank you, Heather." I replied in a low voice.

I was not in the greatest of my moods at the moment. It wasn't her fault, and I did not want to take out my frustration on her by yelling.

So, shorter the conversation, the better.

I looked around the park as we were settled on a bench. I scrutinised every inch of the park for any new ideas to pop up in my mind for my next painting.

Or, more like, some distraction from my current problem.

"Are you planning on holding an exhibition for your paintings, I'm really sure that they'll be sold out quickly," Heather stated as she ran her finger along the outline of my painting of Aurora Borealis.

"No." I replied again.

I sometimes wonder, that how couldn't she get any hint about my bad mood.

Maybe I hid them really well.

I highly doubt it, though.

Then again, it would be selfish of me to expect everybody to behave according to my mood swings. Too selfish.

"Vincent, did you hear what I just said right now?"

Okay, now this is not good.

1. Heather Fox called me by my full name, which is not a good sign.

2. I have no freakin' idea of what she just said.

Staying on my honest side, I shook my head.

Heather let out a sigh.

Great. I made her upset.

"You used to listen to everything, I said. Now, why are you behaving like this?" She said in a sad tone.

Giving a reply in my current mental state would only stir up the argument, so I opted on being silent.

"You don't need to ignore me, Vincent. I'm going, anyway!" Saying so, Heather placed the painting canvas on the bench and left the park.

I saw her figure slowly disappearing from the park until she was nowhere in sight.

Heather had always been a sensitive soul. We've had small arguments in the past, but she never left like this.

Maybe she felt like I ignored her.

I didn't feel anything like I normally should have.

No remorse. No guilt. No sorrow.
No anger.

Nothing.

Even the frustration I had a few moments ago had dissipated somehow.

My heart was feeling just void. Void of any emotions.

I sat there frozen for a few more minutes before I had the energy to pack all my painting stuff and leave the place.

I reached my home and found it empty.

Not surprising at all.

My mom would be at her busy bakery and dad in his busy office and grandma.

At the hospital.

My dad did the honorable job of a son and assigned a maid for my grandma in that hellhole.

I felt ashamed of myself that I couldn't learn about her condition earlier.