You know, the man who looked like he had way too much on his shoulders. Well… actually now that I'm looking at the drawing, I mostly drew the man. The only thing I left out were his eyes. I hadn't even attempted to screw them up choosing instead to leave that part blank. It looked eerie with those two white spots but seemed to fit with the rest of the picture. But there was absolutely no way I could have captured those expressive orbs correctly. The emotions would not be properly represented in such a small space. Maybe I'd make a larger painting and put the eyes in. I stared at the picture for probably another hour before deciding that it was, in fact done.

I looked at the picture fondly. "Well, I guess you're as finished as you're gonna get. Let's spray you and take you to Tim's."

Because I have absolutely no life outside of my art, it was already early morning by the time I was ready to leave for Tim's. I had not slept more than four consecutive hours, but still was energized and almost excited to present a new picture after being away from myself for so long. I knew that at this time most of the tenants were down in the kitchen eating a good old family styled breakfast. I avoided that room at all cost. The people in that room talked too loud, probably due to their varying degrees of deafness, and the room had developed an essence of mothballs. I swear it was like the old ladies wore it like the latest perfume. Another reason to avoid the room: I hated family meals. My experiences of them were not good ones. They were the most awkward times at my house, if you don't count the time my dad caught me masturbating. But that's a story for another time… My family would sit around the table fishing for topics in an attempt to keep us connected. I think it did nothing but increase the divide between us. The conversations always fell flat and we lacked the effort it took to actually pay attention to what the other was saying. To put it simply we just didn't really care. I will say it again, I hate family meals.

Clutching the painting to my chest I made a run for it. I did not need to get sucked into one of my neighbor's philosophical conversations while I only had four hours of sleep. Their arguments might actually start to make sense. In two skips and a jump I was out the front door and halfway down the block well away from the gathered tenants. I continued to the end of the block and turned right, crossing the street and then walked two more blocks to a little corner shop called Assorted Art From Around the Block. In my opinion the name was stupid. Who named a place something like that? Apparently Tim did… If it were anyone else I'd seriously question their sanity. And their taste. Actually I still question Tim's taste every once in a while. Anyway, back to the name… I guess the good thing about it is people know exactly what was in the shop. Yup, it was a food mart. Just kidding, obviously an art shop. And it was owned by a very charismatic salesman.

I pushed open the front door of the little shop and a bell chimed alerting the owner that a potential customer just walked into his domain. Too bad for him, he'd be disappointed. I wasn't a customer. Never would be… The large jovial man accosted me, bounding out of the storage room that was located behind the sales desk. "Howdy! Tim's m' name. Emptin' yer wallet's m' fav'rite game!" He rubbed his meaty hands together greedily.

I arched my eyebrow at him giving him my best offended face. It failed miserably. I have a horrible poker face and I almost always laugh when trying to act serious. "Maybe I'm new to this whole sales thing but I'm pretty sure that's not such a good sales pitch."

"Allen!" the man boomed, laughing happily. "Allen, my man. I've missed yeh. How's m' fav'rite local artist doin' this fine day?" I love Tim, I really do, but I have no clue what he's saying most of the time. But he was an awesome person and always wore a huge infectious smile on his teddy bear face.

A thought just dawned on me, "I'm your only local artist." Well favorite out of one. Not bad Allen, you're pretty awesome.

Tim shrugged it off, "Ah, don't look at all the nitty gritty details. Besides if that were true, this shop would have gone under by now," Tim said poking fun. It just wasn't fair he knew of my creative slump. I had come in here whining… uh, with great dignity and maturity, and he had the gull to hold it against me. Every chance he got he was taking jabs at my pride, said it helped build character. I just thought it was annoying. But c'est la vie.

I batted my eyes at him, "Keep up the sweet talking and I might just keep this drawing." I gave him a coy smile, hoping it aggravated him.

"Ah, promises, promises. Now shut up an' give me the stupid panitin'," snorting Tim grabbed for the painting.

I relinquished my hold on my artwork and let Tim's turn it around so he could assess the piece. He would only sell pieces he deemed worthy at his shop. "Wow pal, it's…it's… uh." Tim scratched the back of his head. "It's not quite as colorful as your other pieces," he finished lamely. Wow, he sure knew how to make a guy feel good.

He didn't need to tell me it was different. I knew. It wasn't even my preferred medium. I was more of a painting kind of guy. I like painting abstract pictures with bright colors. They often consisted of a design that flowed like a lava lamp with subtle changes in color. Then I put a patterned line design, kind of like a tessellation of sorts, on top of the bright colors. "If you don't like it, don't sell it," I said through gritted teeth. I mean, it was simple logic… right?

"Nah, it's not that. Frankly I think it's a fine piece. it's just not your usual style. Yeh been holdin' out on me? Or are yeh going through some kind of gothic stage or somethin'?" Yeah, Picasso had his blue period, I'd have my gothic stage.

"No. It's just the only thing I could think of to draw," I answered truthfully leaving out the snarky comeback that was begging to be released.

"Ah well, that's OK then. Can't have yeh starvin'. I'll give you 85 bucks fer it."

Eighty-five dollars was more than I had ever hoped to get for this pencil drawing. It wasn't even finished. I raised my eyebrows in disbelief. This was fantastic. "85 dollars?" I asked just trying to make sure I heard him right.

Tim must have thought I was disappointed with the price. For such a bodacious salesman he was a real pushover when it came to his artists. "Yeah, well it's kinda small and… well it is very well drawn though… and… Aw hell," I gave him a stern look. He knew how I felt about swearing. It made me sick, literally. It took me a long time to even be able to think them without getting sick. He gave me an apologetic smile. "Alright, yeh convinced me. I'll give yeh 110 fer it."

"Sure," I would gladly accept the money. I was also afraid that if I didn't say anything he'd offer more money and I didn't want to take advantage of him. "Thanks Tim. I'll come back with my next piece shortly. Maybe that one will have more color on it." I said my goodbyes and headed out of the shop. Before the door was closed I heard Tim yell for me to get home. Apparently it was "fixin' to storm" or something like that. But I wanted to go to the park, so totally ignoring Tim's warnings I went the few blocks over to the little park. It was a favorite place of mine. Before the alley it was probably my number one place to walk on my late night rendezvous.

I walked around the park just enjoying the cool breeze.

Sure enough, it started raining not twenty minutes after I arrived at the little park. I seriously considered walking around in the rain to search for something to paint for about one hundredth of a second before deciding against the idea. I really didn't like rain that much. And it was that little misty rain, the stuff that was too wet to be just obnoxious humidity but too scared to man up and become a real rain drop. Me and mist didn't get along. In short it was just a miserable day. Might as well spend it inside. So I decided I could brave the mist and headed back to my apartment.

It was on the way back when it happened. I saw him. I actually had to stop and stare. The guy was out during the day. I don't know why I was so shocked. Up until now I guess I had fashioned the mysterious man into some vampiric being. Fangs and all. It was somewhat of a relief to know that my silly fantasy was nothing more than that. It was a stupid notion anyway. It's not like vampires are real. They were something made up to scare little children and make teenage girls hearts flutter.

But, I found myself thinking that if vampires were real this man would definitely be one. He was just walking. Sulking, actually. His head hung low, hands crossed over his chest, as if he were trying to keep out the whole world.

He looked like he needed a hug. Badly. Honestly the idea of giving him one wasn't exactly unappealing either. But, I'm a bit of a coward when it comes to acting on impulse and his body language just screamed, "Stay away!" with a big fat exclamation point. So I did. I just stood there and watched the man as he slumped out of view. Probably looked like a real moron standing there with my mouth open. At least I wasn't drooling. That man was beginning to show up more and more. Maybe if I plucked some courage from somewhere I would attempt to talk to him.

That night I could barely function my mind was too consumed with thoughts of that man. I wanted to know him. Know what his laugh sounded like. Know his scent. See his smile. Know what he liked. Know pretty much everything about him. Oh my God, I'm obsessed. I tried to sleep on my wonderfully lumpy futon but I couldn't. He was interrupting my sleep now. Jerk.

I slid off my makeshift bed with a sigh, grabbed my coat from the floor and quietly snuck out of my apartment. Making my usual rounds through the neighborhood, I was surprised and fairly disappointed to find the enigmatic man absent from his alley perch. Maybe he finally realized someone had notices his late night sits and didn't like the idea of my ogling… er, looking as he pondered away on those steps. Maybe he just found a better place to sit. Either way he wasn't there and I felt strangely sad that I didn't get to see him this night. I should have talked to him earlier. What if I never got the chance now? I'm an idiot… The disappointment killed my mood and I shuffled the rest of my way home.

I was tired but instead of going to bed like a good little boy I immediately began to work. This time I pulled out the real deal. A canvas. Yes, I decided it was time to paint again. I carefully applied different colors of paint taking my time as I got back into the swing of things. There was no need to rush the process. I have no life. The picture slowly began to take shape.

I can honestly say I wasn't embarrassed in the slightest by what I saw staring back at me a few hours later. Actually, I kind of expected it.

There he was again, that beautiful man. He had inspired me to start painting again. Yet I didn't even know his name. Actually, I didn't really know anything about him, just that he sat in an alley every once in a while. And you know, I think I'm kind of crushing on him… maybe, a little. He doesn't even know I exist and he probably never would. I'm very non confrontational.

I declared the painting finished, wrapped it up once it was dry. I used acrylic paint. I'm too impatient to use oil, and it stinks. And then it was off to Tim's shop.

When I got to the store I flung the door open and quite literally threw the piece at Tim's head. In hindsight it probably wasn't the best idea. Thankfully he caught it and looked at me with something like disbelief on his face. "Wow, two in two days. I'm impressed." He carefully unwrapped the cloth and gawked at what was underneath.

I could tell by the wide smile stretching its way across his lips that he liked it. And I have to admit, I was quite smitten with it as well.

It was breathtaking.

The center point was a coffin. Now I normally hate doing things that look too symmetrical but this just seemed to work. The coffin was beautiful, embellished with intricate designs and predominantly an ebony color. Laying smack dab in the middle of the box was the man from the alley, eyes closed, 'cause I didn't want to paint them, holding a bouquet of red roses. An exquisite corpse. Ha.

"Well yeh did use a bit more color I s'pose." Tim joked taking in the monochromatic painting. "It's really nice. How 'bout 200 even?"

Worked for me. I shrugged, "Sure that will be fine," I was way more than satisfied with the proposed amount. I left the shop in good spirits, waving a happy goodbye to Tim on the way out. I whistled a happy tune, could have been the theme from Sesame Street but if you had asked me if that's what I had been whistling I would have denied it. Next thing I knew, I was having a very unwanted encounter with the sidewalk. Whatever I had bumped into was hard it hadn't moved in the slightest.

"Oops," I scrambled to my feet mortified. I can't believe I just did that. I had actually run into something, or someone. I looked up sheepishly. "Sorry sirs. Wasn't paying attention." I apologized hastily. Something about these guys just made me want to get away. Fight-or-flight. There was absolutely no way a fight was going to happen I'd be pummeled. And I was seeing double. That's right they were twins. Completely identical and completely ginormous. I couldn't help but give a nervous laugh. "Boy are you two tall," I shakily said before scuttling away like a scared bunny.

Sleep sounded like the best thing ever right now so I headed home. The image of those guys plagued my mind. They were just so weird. They were tall. Like Andre the Giant tall and definitely worked out. They had brown hair and gray, almost silver, eyes that made me feel uncomfortable when they were focused on me. And I don't mean uncomfortable in a good way. They reminded me of a predator. Those scary eyes so much like those of a shark. I shuddered. Running into people like that wasn't my idea of a fun time. Hopefully I won't be seeing them again. And you know maybe it I did, that guy would be around to save me. I had a feeling if I ever saw them again, I'd need saving or I might end up dead.