Magnum Opus

Soft rays of sunlight sifted peacefully into the restaurant. Warming the floors and giving the entire place an air of contentment. A small orange cat lay in the corner of the diner, soaking up the beautiful day, Its ears twitched, suddenly aware of movement nearby. Sitting up, the cat stretched, flicked its ears to and fro and then, after a moment sank back into its quiet slumber.1

Only a few customers were eating and very little noise made it out to join the cacophony of the street outside.2

The restaurant wasn't a very good one, the food was plain at best, and the decor was beginning to become slightly shabby. But the homeliness of the of the place kept a steady flow of diners coming in.3

James Black was one such diner, from his seat by the window he could view the cities main street, shops and eateries lining it for what seemed like forever. Even in the rain the roads were full of people and cars. pollution and garbage were rampant. What a dreary place, he thought to himself.4

Im front of him lay a small black sketchbook. Pencils and other artistic supplies were strewn haphazardly across the rest of the surface, his meal pushed off to the side for more room to work.5

Bending over the book he began to draw. James black was not a mediocre artist, his sketches were refined and delicate, each line placed with precision, harmonizing with the whole. He would erase and draw, erase and draw, and erase some more, never really happy until it was perfect.6

His eyes flicked up every now and then, taking in the face of a waitress across the room. In moments the picture was complete it was rough of course, taking so little time, but the likeness was perfect.7

Smiling to himself he flipped to the next page, and began to draw a fat balding man who was occupying himself with a lukewarm coffee and a croissant.8

This was James' favorite pastime, each time he sat down and took up his pencils he captured an aspect of life, forever locked within his sketchbooks pages.9

He never looked over his work, improving with with each line drawn, he did not attempt to revise his past art.10

At his small apartments two book shelfs were lined with filled sketchbooks, each labeled and a dated precisely. The other walls were covered as well with books and documents, these ranging from Neruda, Tolkien, Shakespeare and Poe to Marx, Hitler and the like.11

he was an avid reader, some would even call him a bibliomaniac.12

Other books littered his apartment, lying in disorder over most of his floor and desk.13

To say the least, his four roomed apartment had been turned into a veritable library.14

His kitchen was spotlessly clean, although books were scattered about the room here also. The same could be said about the washroom.15

His budget was modest, working as a manager in a small tech firm. most of it went towards books and art supplies, if any was left, he would buy food and clothes.16

Even then he managed to enjoy some of the finer things in life. Each night before he went to sleep he would sip a small glass of red wine, tea, or the like and feast upon crackers and pate.17

It was a good life.18

When James returned home, after a shower and an hour or two of reading he made his way to bed.19

When he awoke, around six o'clock he immediately went back to sleep. He had a day off that day.20

When he awoke the second time, the sun was midway through the sky. Standing up, he straightened his night clothes and moved into the washroom.21

James was not terribly tall, his black hair had always been long, and as he attempted to straighten it out he considered cutting a bit off. His skin was pale and his face was sharply angled. His green eyes gave other the impression of great cunning and intelligence. He wasn't an ugly man.22

A half hour later, cleaned and refreshed, dressed in a loose blazer and jeans,with sketchbook underarm. he stepped from the old apartment and into the street.23

It was mid January and the whether was cold, many people still went about their business. Thankfully it was not raining anymore and he could sit outside and draw for a while. Afterwards he would go for an afternoon cappuccino at the House of Mireille, a local French cafe.24

Most customers at the House of Mireille stayed for a long time,as the atmosphere and food were "exquisite", very relaxing, a perfect place to sit and draw.25

And draw he did. Two hours and three vanilla cappuccinos later, he packed up his work and walked home.26

Most days went slowly for him, and it was not yet five in the afternoon. At the apartments door he changed his mind and turned back into the street27

In the city it was busiest around six, most people were returning home from work and were doing their shopping and the like, And so the streets had become constricted.28

He was sitting on a city bench and sketching the stone facade of an old bank, with its massive stone pillars and slightly contradictory glass doors. The building reminded him of the parthenon in greece ( another of his passions, ancient history)29

Beside him on the bench an old lady sat. Looking very much like a stereotypical witch, minus the green skin and long nose. Here eyes were fiercely intelligent and were currently fixed upon James with a stare that would send a lion running30

Slightly alarmed by her piercing gaze he asked;31

"can i help you ma'am?" always polite.32

The womans reply was short and clipped.33

"No!" but she continued to stare, a moment later her face softened as if she had changed her mind about something "Its just.." she paused. "You remind me of someone i once knew" again her face hardened and she busied herself with rummaging through her black cloth bag.34

James continued drawing, his work was very absorbing.35

Just when he had finished the rendering the great stone steps the crone spoke up again.36

"You are a fine artist" she said, James was used to that.37

"Thank you" he replied, this woman was becoming irritating.38

"You seem to be doing very well for an artist, they all seem to end up in rags at some point or another" she chuckled, as if to some personal joke. James forced a smile.39

"You would like to earn some money?" she asked. James looked up, money was a very useful thing.40

"If you want a portrait done you should know i don't work cheap" The woman laughed at that and shook her head.41

"Why would I want a picture of this grimy mug?" James almost laughed, but stopped himself.42

"What can i do for you then?" he asked, preparing a new page.43

"I have something you may want." she said, before he could reply she stood up and passed him a card. "Come at seven tomorrow, address is on the card. I'll pay you well. And with that she walked off.