- The Lie
After Félix Vallotton
On her part, it’s a faceless passion. Red bleeds into every corner of the room. It makes the whole scene murkier. His head is bent to hear her. She’s a velvet bloom.
She’s pressed against his dark wool suit. Her face is flushed in his embrace. They’ve been this way before: the flowers gathered in the vase were gifted weeks ago, a lush bouquet.
In red, a brighter red than all the red inside the room, she lounges on her side. She tells him, “Look me in the eye.” Instead, he keeps them closed and thinks about his pride.
The lie, it must be something that she said. The flowers gathered in the vase are dead. [End Page 324]
JOSEPHINE CHUN is a Writing Seminars major at Johns Hopkins.