He'd almost abandoned the effort when he'd found himself penciling browns and golds into the large green eyes of the petite, white cat. Marcuso for his lack of attention the past few weeks. It had been a spur of the moment project pulled out of the the need to offer some kind of apology to Mr. The sheets had wrinkled beneath him oddly and he'd felt every crease, every fiber before he'd given up the pretense that he was going to rest, and finished a drawing of Dolcezza. It had been one of those evenings that was too cool for the air conditioner and too humid for an open window and he'd felt a bit suffocated with the lack of circulating air. Justin grabbed his light jacket and his messenger bag, keys and a small scroll of art paper. Brian leaned his head back against the gritty brick wall and wondered how he'd gotten to the point that he was skulking outside of Justin's apartment how he'd let his life – hell, everyone's life – get so fucked up. Then again, that was back when Brian was actually coming to spend the weekend with him. He'd always wanted to get there early on Saturday, get his work done quickly and make the weekend as long as possible.
That he'd duck out of the apartment early and make the round of coffee-house and newspaper stand before heading into the gallery. He'd driven through the night to stand at this particular spot at this particular time and hoped that Justin was as much a creature of habit as he'd always been. He was pretty sure it wasn't from the slight chill of the early morning. But Brian could sense it as he stood in the recess of a storefront across from an old brownstone as the sun began to rise. One could almost miss that shift in a city as encased in brick and steel as New York.
QUEER AS FOLK SOUNDTRACK SEASON 4 EPISODE 7 SERIES
There is that short series of days when summer begins its passage into fall, when the presence of green eases into a promise of scarlet and umber. These paper boats of mine are meant to dance on the ripples of hours, and not reach any destination.