Michael gave up. His art, like his life, was an unmitigated disaster. He had set out to pour all his passion, effort and love into what he hoped would become his masterpiece, but had failed miserably.
Michael threw his aerosol can away and stood up. He climbed the parapet and walked towards the edge. One more step – he would be free of all the troubles and disappointments of this life. He observed other artists, cans in hand, going about their work. There was excitement in the air. A guy in a black tee and khakis hollered a greeting.
He was about to jump when his eyes fell on a fat guy in a red tee, on the terrace below, spraying in childish swirls. The vulgar ones called him ‘The Fat Retardo’. Michael observed the guy’s struggles and called out.
“Oi! What are you writing mate?”
He didn’t look up, “I like everybody. Everything is nice. That’s what I wanna graffit.”
Michael picked up an aerosol can and went to help his new friend.
Word Count: 175
This piece of fiction is an entry for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers hosted by Priceless Joy.
Find other fabulous entries for this challenge here.
Photo Credit: Grant-Sud