Short Fiction – You Can’t Pixelate Paint

VisDare – Devoted

Two of my friends lost their virginity to Camilla, but I was the one who got her in the end, so to speak. It’s not that the place we lived in was known for sexual promiscuity, and I’m not saying Camilla is a slut at all, because that’d be slut-shaming. It’s just that she really liked my friends. I’m the only one who never slept with her.

She came to my house one afternoon for tea. I’d invited her the previous Tuesday when I’d accosted her in Wholefoods. She was looking wonderful. I usually hide from people I know in Wholefoods because 9 times out of 10 I’ll be hungover and nearly burnt out. I never look good. It’s a character trait of mine. Some people get Good Negotiator and some people get Born To Lead but I Ggot Unphotogenic In And Out of Photos. I was surprised Camilla had said yes. I only invited her for tea because my dreadlocks were down past my shoulderblades then and tea being such a proper thing I felt like I was being kooky. Camilla likes kooks.

Oil paint is another thing Camilla likes. She likes being able to go up to a painting and see all the bumps. She says it’s like a frozen sea. Well, I froze her in my sea and kept her there. There’s no point in lying now, is there. Everyone leaves, but not Carmilla. She’s free to wander through all the painted scenes of my home and blink at me from wherever it is she finds me. Sometimes we press palms together as though we were only separated by glass, and she mouth, you fucking bastard but that’s okay. I know she’ll learn to like it here.

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