Art in Progress

Miya threw herself across her bed in her small three room apartment. A study, a bedroom and a larger sitting room. Her sitting room was lined with floor to ceiling bookcases along one wall. Stuffed in them were romance books about vampires, werewolves, the supernatural. One bookcase was filled with nothing but art books and gallery portfolios. She had a small kitchenette off the sitting room, a small balconey with barely room for a wicker chair in the sun. Her bedroom had old fashioned furniture she'd acquired at antique stores and yard sales and refurbished. She loved the eclectic mix of old and new. Above her bed hung a pretty egyptian print. If you looked closely at her headboard you would discover eyelets set in the portion of the wood that faced the wall. Tonight she was still dressed in her work clothing, her shoulder length red hair in a loose ponytail. A dog eared copy of 'Interview' lay on her nigh tstand under the lamp. She rolled over onto her back to stare at the ceiling, her memory hazy about her professor friend back in DC.

Her macbook beeped from the other side of her bed and she rolled over again, now on her tummy and looked at the email. She grinned a bit as she saw the email. One of the dance clubs was having an impromptu party tonight. She cast a glance over to her closet and slowly shimmied out of her grey suit, being careful to hang it up properly. One took care of their toys, especially expensive ones like this. She walked slowly towards the shower, her legs long and toned from her early morning runs. Her behind nice and tight, her waist not exactly slim but certainly not 'fat'. Her tummy had a little bit of a pudge that she couldn't quite get rid of, no matter how hard she tried.

The shower washed over her, and she leaned against the cool tile of the small corner shower, enjoying the contrast of the heat and coolness for the few minutes before the tile warmed. She soaped her hair and body with a scent derived from roses. It was her favorite scent. After she'd dried off, she stood in front of her bureau, picking up the crystal ball of perfume, a vague memory of her friend dabbing some behind an ear and then... She shook her head again, going back into her bathroom to brush out her hair and style it. She twirled her curls into tight little knots and spiral curls, pinning them with flashy little pins that she'd found in a small shop in Georgetown. She shimmied into her little red plaid dress then stepped into the tall, pony style latex boots she liked to wear the best. She didn't remember where she'd gotten them. It seemed like she'd always had them, always been able to walk in them.

As she inspected herself in the mirror, her right hand came up to touch her throat, remembering vaguely something there, once. She missed it, and none of her other necklaces seemed quite right. What was it? She couldn't remember. There were lots of things that seemed to be almost within reach that she couldn't quite remember. She grabbed a small pouch that attached around her waist with a 'jeweled' chain. It was eccentric and didn't quite match, but she honestly didn't care. It was big enough to hold everything she needed.

As she left the room, she realized that she hadn't eaten dinner. Well she'd grab that at the club. If she remembered correctly, this one served a darned good sandwich. And maybe she would find someone to dance with.