"Like this, Kyle?" I finished my painting.

For as long as I can remember I have always been my version of an artist. Creating was a passion and it's the only thing I ever cherished. I was never remotely decent at anything else. I never had the patience to be good.

I already knew what Kyle was going to say before he spoke.

"Nice lines," he gestured, "good strokes. I can see an emotional scene towards the this blend. You're going in the right path but I feel like there's something out of place. Everything seems to have a certain overall tone within the colors. Its all very majestic. What's your theme?"

I always considered my work and style very Sylvia Plath. Titles and theme seem to ruin what a real piece of art is supposed to be. But this was Kyle, though an all around nice guy, he was sickeningly by the book. I rolled my eyes and obijed.

The first thing I could say was, "Shadows, we hide who we are underneath the surface. I wanted to show how smiles can deceive people who can't see through the transparency. Everyone is smiling, but its empty. There's no genuine feeling behind it; so we buy it because we all want happiness even if its fake."

Sometimes I surprise myself with my own findings. Kyle was the only person who praised me. He was more like an older brother to me. In many ways he was perfect for me; least I thought so. I barely know anyone from Boston but it sounds really amazing. He's been married for a few years now and he gets a little shy when anyone mentions it. He's private around most people, but around me its different. He talks more. Its refreshing since mostly these days people feel the need to keep secrets.

He taps his finger to his lips, "I see that. There's a lot of unanswered questions in this region here," he points to the bottom left. "The shading is really sharp. This is amazing. Its captured perfectly through the strokes and richness of the picture. I feel so much from this piece..."

He kills me when he trails off. I really wish I could hear his thoughts now. "What do you feel?"

He looked at me seriously. I uncomfortablely hopped off my stool and backed away. Maybe I over-stepped my bounds a little bit.

Thank god he broke contact and glanced behind me at the clock, "Oh, I have to meet my mom and dad tonight for dinner. Its a thing we do every week."

"Really? That's nice. I made plans too." Yeah right.

"Oh really, what's that?"

I nodded, leaving the answer vague, if I said anymore he's probably going to press. I started putting my supplies away and took my painting off the canvas to the drying area. "Yeah, nothing major. Making it a Blockbuster night is my ritual."

He chuckled and helped me rinse my brushes, "You should come wih us. My brother and his girlfriend are coming too. I think it'd be fun."

I was going between answers. The only single person at fancy ritual family dinner. Damn, I could just picture the aftermath of my head face down in the pillow crying. No thanks.

I blushed and turned around from him quickly. I couldn't say what I really wanted to tell him, he'd probably think I should be committed, in case he already thinks so.

"I can't. I have some stuff to do at home. Thanks though," I said sweetly, regretting it a little.

"Ok, well, if you change your mind come on by, or I'll come and get you. We usually stay pretty late there. My family's great actually. I know my mother would really love it if she met you."

"You told her about me?"

"I did a couple times yeah. Everyone knows about you."

Oh great. Is that a good thing? What hell has he told that? But seriously... Ugh, so tempting. Still, single person, I don't know. What would I bring to the conversation?

Fuck it.

"I'll be there. " Yeah, I have a death wish.