A Feather
I should have worn a feather, the artist said at the uptown opening. She, who was infatuated, looked at him askance. A feather? Yes, a feather! I can’t believe you’ve never seen me in my feather! He pointed to a place in his long gray pony tail. His handsome chiseled face was pale and gaunt. A feather? Who did he want to be? Chief Red Cloud? Chief Sitting Bull? Chief Wannabe-Rich-And-Famous-Outlaw-Artist? When he asked the exhibiting painter how many millions each painting cost, she knew the feather was the least of her concerns.
Photo Credit: Roberta Allen
Beautiful!