We sat in a booth, under hanging plants and someone’s painterly conception of the world. Red, heavily applied to a canvas, with a white triangle intruding from the top. “What would you name that picture, David?”

“I don’t know. Red?”

“No. A painting that bad needs at least a clever title. It needs something. I would call it ‘Menses’.”

“Go see. If it’s ‘Menses’ I’ll buy it for you.”

I walked through the maze of tables. “Red” said the little card taped to the wall just left of the painting. I laughed.

“It’s called ‘Red’! Do I have to buy it for you?”


Fledging by Martha Kennedy NFS

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