He walked aimlessly. The direction was irrelevant, the destination unknown. The chaos of the city was all at once too much for him but also the comfort that he craved, like a security blanket wrapped so tight that it hurt.
He clutched the card in his hand, his fingers purple with cold. It had fallen out of her purse several weeks ago as she’d hurriedly gathered her things, racing off as always. There was never time to say a fond, leisurely goodbye. Only a harried kiss, a promise that she would see him ‘soon’, a word that tortured him.
He should have given the card back the next time, but he had already begun carrying it with him, taking a little piece of her everywhere he went. The only piece of her that could ever really be his. And now, her library card was all that he had left of her.
I created the above short story to try and put some context around a painting which, at first glance, doesn’t give much away.
When coupled with the words, however, I think you can get a sense of the world that the protagonist is in now: chaotic, a little overwhelming, bright lights and people all around but nothing to soothe his angst. At least, that’s what I took from it when it was shown to me.