Realistic or Modern 𝓇𝑒𝓂𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝓂𝑒?

[ameuSHhen1Tn2ba]

Remember Me?

'cuz I loved you

yousmelldead x hanthesunbeam

 

[ameuSHhen1Tn2ba]

Margret Lee

“Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist
once we grow up.”

-Pablo Picasso

Dark eyes locked on to the reflection in the mirror. Checking once, checking twice. Was her hair nice? Did her lipstick match? Did she look like an artist? Maggie's face scrunched slightly as she shook her head. She looked good, pretty even. Her nerves, however, made her question everything. Tonight was a huge deal. The biggest gallery showing she had personally had to date. Not only was some of her work for sale, but it also could interest people into hiring her. It was not only an accomplishment, but it was also good for business. There was also the fact that a lot of Daniel's colleagues and business partners would be there, since her name was now associated with his. And don't even get her started on art critics. If she screwed this up, who knew what her career would look like. Success also affected her fiance's reputation. He had reminded her before she had agreed that if she wanted to do this, she could, she just had to remember that humiliation awaited if she couldn't pull this off flawlessly. Breathe Maggie. She took a deep breath in, calming her spiraling thoughts and focusing.

Just be yourself.

Gently she grabbed a pair of medium sized gold hoops, fixing them in place in her ears. It was then that she remembered, by looking at her hands in the mirror. Maggie opened the top drawer of the vanity she was standing at. Nimble hands plucked the black velvet box from it's place. She opened it to reveal the shimmering stone. The silver band was simple, making the gigantic diamond the focal point of the ring. There wasn't just one stone, however, surroundings it were more smaller diamonds. She slid the gaudy ring on to her finger. The engagement ring wasn't something she would have chosen herself. It felt more like a sign of wealth that of commitment. It wasn't that she didn't wear it to trick people, Maggie normally had it on when leaving the apartment. It just felt like too much to wear around the house. Plus, she didn't want to drop it in paint or something like that.

The woman made her way from the vanity, back out to the master bedroom. Maggie took note how quiet everything was. That wasn't unusual. The 3.9 million dollar apartment often felt empty. There was a time, when they first moved in, that it seemed they always had company. Dinner parties and small events. Maybe it was the fact that it was new and exciting. She had sometimes wondered if the thrill of showing off their extravagant home was the main reason for all the commotion. That new home excitement had eventually worn off. Now, she felt like she was the only one ever home. Daniel was extra busy. She couldn't fault him for that. As she was gathering her things together, her attention was pulled to her phone as it buzzed aggressively on the bed side table. Maggie checked to see the message that popped up on the screen. She sighed quietly to herself.

Daniel

I got caught up at the office. Don't wait up for me. I'll be a little​

late.​

Maggie didn't respond. She shoved her phone into the pocket of her dress. The dull ache of disappointment filled her stomach. "I'm sure he tried his hardest," She whispered to herself. She pushed away bitter thoughts as she walked out of the bedroom to head down the stairs. Maggie didn't have time to sit around and mope. Swiftly she made it to the front door. The entry closet held her shoes, a pair of nude heels, that she slipped on while using the wall as a support. Once again she triple checked that she had everything she needed. When that was finished, Maggie walked out the front door and locked it behind her.

Walking out the front door of their apartment building, she was met by her driver. The black compact car was waiting for her. Maggie couldn't remember the last time she took public transportation. When her and Daniel moved in together, he told her that he didn't like when she took the bus or subway, since it was dangerous. She, herself, had never enjoyed driving in the city. It was then that he hired a private driver for her, in addition to his own. Jackson, said driver, was holding the rear door open for her with a smile. After a quick thank you and a grin in return, Maggie climbed into the back seat. It wasn't terribly far, less than twenty minutes away. Her anxiety to get to the Gallery made it feel like eternity. She smoothed her dress with her sweaty hands. Even though she was nervous, the artist was also incredibly excited. When she graduated, Maggie had prepared herself to live in a cardboard box and eat ramen noodles for the rest of her life. Little Mi-Young would have never guessed that years later she'd get to show her art work for all to see.

But part of her held her back from feeling as excited as she should be. She arrived at the venue early, a modern gallery that had gone up about three years prior that was known for it's monthly rotation of exhibitions. The New Age Arts Center had actually had a couple pretty famous artists hold their collections. Today was opening night. Maggie had been to a couple of these grand opening events, but she hadn't ever been the focal point of one. Her arrival was met by the curator, who was quick to usher her inside. The large open gallery was empty, save the art work on the walls and partitions. She had worked for the past couple months to organize each of her works. She had a reason for the placement of every piece. The atmosphere was almost as important as the art itself. After checking on the caterers with the hors d'oeuvres and glasses of champagne, she was asked to take pictures with the curator, as well as some on her own, for the local paper. Maggie turned to the older man, shaking his hand happily. "Thank you so so much for all your work," She told him genuinely. It felt like all she had done all night was thank him.

"It was really the least I could do, with Mr. Cartwright being a huge backer for our establishment and all. It was my pleasure," He replied. Maggie smiled, the grin being quite forced after that statement. That fact wasn't something she particularly wanted to be reminded of. Every time she was, she felt the sinking feeling of guilt. Like she had cheated. That this wasn't her accomplishment at all. This was all about her fiance's name, and had nothing to do with her work.

It had been a couple hours since the event had started. Maggie was currently talking to an older woman, someone who reminded her of her mother. Which was almost never a good thing. The conversation had started off with her saying how one of the pieces that she was currently looking at would go perfectly in her dining room. To which Maggie was elated. She had begun to explain the meaning behind it. With the subject being a sailboat in a scheme of yellows and blues. She had mean to portray how fickle life could be, like a sailboat who went with the tides and wind. Before she could finish, however, the woman began to talk about how it reminded her of the old boat that her third husband had gotten in their divorce. This wasn't the first conversation to go like this. All night it had been rich snobs who were only there because of publicly or business men asking about Daniel, where he was and when he was going to show up. Every time they did so it hurt, not only did it remind her that he was yet to make an appearance on such an important occasion, but also that these people had no interest in her and her passion at all.

Finally being able to find an out from that horrendous conversation, Maggie stood off to the side. She scanned the crowd. The gallery was packed. Yet she felt so alone. Matt, her brother, had come for the first part of the night with her nieces. He couldn't stay long because of the girl's bed time. He had been the last person she had really cared to talk to. No, actually, that was a lie. As she looked around the room she noticed a few people. It wasn't the people caught up in conversation, more interested in others than in her passion. It was the few that stood, looking thoughtfully up at her work. It were those people that she wanted to talk to. Maggie wanted to ask what they thought. She wanted to see if the emotion that she meant to evoke within them had come across. Much to her dismay, anytime she had finally gotten around to them, she was interrupted by someone who thought they were more important.

As one of the waiters came around, Maggie plucked a meat and cheese skewer from one of the trays and shoved it in her mouth. Oh she was starving. She had been so nervous all day long that she had hardly eaten. As she chewed, someone caught her attention. She had no clue who this person was since their back was facing her. She could only assume based on the silhouette that it was a man. It wasn't him that really caught her eye. No. It was the art piece he was currently looking up at. He had excellent taste. It wasn't the largest piece or even one of the best. It was old. From her college days. But the memories attached to it were even more important that the work itself. The subject? A dancer. One arm thrown up towards the sky, while he leapt into the air. Face of pure glee. The grey scale broken up by rich reds and pinks. A simple title expressed just as what she wanted to show, Passion. It brought her back to that dance studio. Maybe that was why she kept it all those years. To remember how much he taught her. He was, and always will be, her first love.

There was no possible way she could keep herself from speaking to this stranger. Long, quick strides brought her through the crowd. If anyone wanted to stop her to talk, she wasn't going to listen. As she stood behind him, she felt herself smile. Maggie cleared her throat lightly. "Find any thing you like?" She questioned. As she waited for him to turn around, she had this sudden sense of deja vu. Somehow, this stranger felt...familiar? How was it that seeing the back of his head made her feel like she was home?

The Artist

Location: Art Gallery Chicago, Illinois
Date: May 3rd, 2020
Mood: "How come I feel so alone in a crowded room?"
Interactions: Thoughtful Stranger(?)
Tags: @yousmelldead
Outfit:

coded by HanTheSunbeam