Muse: Paulena

 

Paulena at lunch. A loft in the city. An olive to her mouth. Alone at her table with small plates for one. Only a few bites for now. Which earrings she thinks, a white porcelain hoop or silver crescent moon? She looks away nervously reaching for her next bite. A wrap around her waist to accentuate her waist, a bag to announce her arrival, she waits. Getting comfortable she loosens her blouse. Green skirt fidgets. Wine taste better in the glass with most character. Bubbles make her dizzy before leaving the room.