Painting helps me feel better

Grey Days
I woke up to another grey day.

It started off in a good way. I had coffee in bed with my partner. We whispered in the predawn dark moving effortlessly from one subject to another.

The silver light peered through the window.

I crept quietly downstairs.  In the frig, smoked salmon-almond cream cheese-fresh dill. I ordered vegan salmon, yes there is such a thing but the grocer was out. I turned on the gas flame, melted butter in the pan, added whipped eggs for an omelet while the bagels heated in the toaster. I gently folded in the dill, cream cheese and wild caught thin sliced salmon.

It was a decadent breakfast.

Later in the morning,  I looked out the window.  A black cat stretched in the window at the yard facing mine. I watched a black crow hop across the garbage cans. Both silhouettes in an empty picture void of color.

I began to fill down missing the sun. Reading the news brought me further below.

I saw a picture,  the black cat in the window underneath the grey.

I decided to paint her.

I pulled the plastic tub from under my bed. I opened it up, pulling brushes and paints. I found tempura paint, I bought months ago, new and untouched.  I poured it out, the consistency of pudding.  So black and dark. I dipped my brush in. Pressing into the color, swirling my brush, I started to paint.

I could feel my joy return.

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