Listening to dreamy folk music with the streetlight spilling in through the window, we absolutely destroyed that sheet of canvas in a fit of giggles and the kind of hysteria that comes over you when you start to connect with a total stranger. It was completely ridiculous.
Boarding the G train home covered from head to toe in paint and sawdust – just the state in which I had found him a few hours prior – I found myself grinning like a fool. We had walked hand in hand to the train like silly lovers in a terrible chick flick where entirely unrealistic things happen to perfectly ordinary people.
Maybe, readers, you were right. Maybe the men from New York City are not what I should be looking for. Maybe this small-town artiste with his rough hands and wry smile is just the country man that I’ve been looking for all along.
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