Ping… there are people who had happy childhoods
Pong… who don’t sulk when they lose
Ping… look forward to family gatherings
Pong… can discuss different views without wanting to fight
Ping… these people have never held a grudge
Pong… live lightly amongst us.
Ping… play games just for fun.
Paint me as you see me, he says. Be completely honest.
And as she works, he talks and she listens. In her silence, he bares his soul. He loves Thursdays but longs to see his finished portrait.
There’s nothing there, he shouts. She smiles at him, shuts her studio door.
He remembers blindly following the expected path. She remembers his hand over her mouth. He remembers too many parties to remember. She remembers fear. He remembers being the man most likely to. She remembers laughter, it still echoes deep inside. He doesn’t have to remember, not any more. She remembers.