“Achew!!”
A violent sneeze into her crooked elbow was Yuna’s response to Kate’s show of hospitality. Followed by another stifled sneeze and a few sniffles. That long walk from the depot through hustle and bustle of the city’s windy streets seemed to have taken its nasty toll on the artist’s fragile frame.
“I’m sorry,” said Yuna, visibly embarrassed.
“No need to be sorry, Yuna!” returned Kate proffering the guest a tissue box. “Nippy out there, huh?”
“Sure is! Thanks!” Yuna pulled a tissue from the box, quietly blew her nose into it, then looked around. “Wow, nice place you’ve got here! Wait… How come you know my name?”
“Simple observation,” chuckled Kate good-naturedly. “The tip of your tube has your moniker on it. Unless, of course… it’s a found object? You know, an objet trouvé?”
“It’s mine all right,” sighed Yuna. “Until my piece finds its new home, that is.”
“You an artist? May I have a look?”
“Sure thing.” Yuna popped the lid of the tube open, then carefully took the rolled-up canvas out and after a moment’s hesitation unfurled it on the store’s floor.
“No worries,” Kate smiled. “I sweep up my establishment twice a day.”
“It does look pristine, if I bit chaotic, if I may be so bold.”
“You may. But you know what they say: chaos was the law of nature; order was the dream of man,” Kate’s voice suddenly acquired a tinge of mock-solemnity.
“That so? You kinda described there what my piece is about,” Yuna glanced wide-eyed at the store’s proprietress as Kate leaned over the canvas to get a better look at the rejected commission.
All of a sudden, Kate’s lovely features underwent a transformation. Gone was her benign and self-contained look of the woman in charge. The image, or more accurately, a plethora of images, their juxtaposition and violent, clashing intensity of colors and shapes that stared at her from the canvas seemed to have abruptly pulled the rug from out of Kate and left her gasping for air.