Essays in Existentialism: Bands II
Previously on Bands
one year later
The colours weren’t quite right. That was what Clarke understood as she peered at her painting with agitation burrowing in her neck. Her chin was covered with a stray brush bristling against her skin as she tapped it there. That usually happened when she was so busy thinking, she became clumsy, became covered in stray strokes of distracted agitation. Her hands were stiff with caked on colours that just weren’t quite right. She knew they weren’t, and yet she was stuck.
The noises in the hallway continued to grow as Clarke turned up the music on the radio. Her girlfriend’s voice began to lull her into a false sense of happiness. It only added to her displeasure though when she remembered this particular girlfriend was across the country. But she was on the radio, and that was magic. It wasn’t much, just the college radio station, but still. Some magic. Clarke was proud and refused to listen to anything else.