The Artist

                            

Slipping into my suede booties, I relaxed on my bed. The three table-lamps lay on the table prompting me to throw more light on the image sketched by a junior artist.

The snow-capped peak beckoned the boat stuck into the frozen lake to break the ice barrier and kiss the feet of the mountain.  

The artist had died a premature death leaving an estranged wife.

Through his canvas, he tried to reach her but death robbed him off the opportunity leaving him cold.

My gaze pondered on the treasure of reality spread before me.

I dialed a number ,‘Hello darling…………



                                   Thanks Rochelle for the lovely picture prompt.


                                           
Word Count : 100