A Discerning Eye (continued)

Daniel spends his free time sketching at Creel's Reef. He is obsessed with the water-washed architecture, the old, soft wood. He is making some gorgeous things on linen rag. I plan to purchase one when he is ready, a charcoal sketch of an abandoned Victorian high above the beach, its windows gone, the fine detailing above the doors and window eaten away by sand, wind, rain.

We both work well, hard, then come together in the evening for tomatoes and arugula from the farmer's market, for the creamy blue-veined cheese made at Bluestem Creamery. Daniel invents pasta dishes and I make salads. We talk little, easier in our actions, our bodies, than with words. Though I occasionally find bloodied tissues in the garbage can, there are no more nosebleeds.

It is the closest to an adult domestic life either of us has experienced.

continued

Fiction, New Fiction, Writing