The Tower

She whiled away the afternoon in her 10th story studio apartment, diligently adding the finishing touches to the dragon’s wing curled around the tower searching for its prey.  Deep reds, rich greens, and stark grays offset the delicate pastel princess who stood in the window—a frozen image on the page, too ladylike to scream, a note of terror resonating in her body language.

The monotony channeled her thoughts like a funnel onto the page, each brush stroke imprinting raw emotions like grooves on a record.  The events earlier in the day replayed in her mind over and over.  She kept hearing his words, saw the look on his face.  Could she really never be more than a friend to him?  She feared she would never find the closure she longed for.

One last stroke of the brush before she sat back to admire her work.  Like the princess, she was alone in her tower, stalked by loneliness.  Drawing was her only refuge.  Paint gave it life, and the tears splatted on the page a broken heart. 

A knock at the door pulled her back to reality.  A pit formed in her stomach as she reached for the knob, shamelessly hoping to take out her frustrations on the judgmental cat lady from 10B.  A rant caught in her throat in a stunned silence.  It was him.

The two stood wordlessly for what seemed like ages, questions and emotions hanging in the air between them.  Before she knew it, he swept her into his arms, and fitted his lips to hers in a kiss that held regret for missed opportunities and hope for the future.  It was in this moment she knew things would never be the same.  Her prince had finally come to rescue her.