Canvas
 
  

There’s a hum in the air as I stare at him. Our faces are blank, perfect canvases to be painted with emotion. A chessboard sits in front of us, whose pieces sit unmoving. We don’t play chess. He lifts pond-turquoise eyes and dark lashes up to my face and smiles a slash of bluegrass green happiness across his canvas. I shift under his gaze, swirls of hunter green annoyance and navy self-loathing painting themselves onto my face. His smile drops, shifting slate grey disappointment to coat over the happiness. I twitch yellow anxiety across my canvas, bright red embarrassment hazing over everything else. He reaches out and touches my hand in his violet concern.