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Matisse's 'The Red Studio'
He stormed into the room. Her studio. How could she? How dare she? He was furious. He closed his eyes. She was his everything. Why would she? Did he not love her enough? Did he not give her everything she could ever dream of? And this is her thank you. His eyes shot open as he scanned the room. They deceived him; for in result of his anger, passion, and pain, the whole room turned a hue of bright red. He peered through intense eyes at the new ominous shade that covered the walls and floor. It crawled onto the table and the drawers and soon they were red as well. His heart beat louder and faster as his anger intensified. His reddened face became a bright contrast to his black clothing, but not to the room. His hands shook as the balled them into fists. His bloodshot eyes glazed over with a thin film of tears. She left everything here. Her paint, her canvases that were leaning innocently against the wall. He wondered if she would dare come back to get them. As his vision blurred further and the room became opaque, his eyelids couldn't sustain the weight and one lonely tear dropped to the floor. This made him angrier. He sharply inhaled and punched the left wall, leaving a smudge of blood on the seemingly ruby wall. He stared at the smudge as he felt his knuckles burn and the trickle of blood running down his fingers. As his eyes filled up once again the smudge disappeared into the red appearing wall. A blank blur of red. He saw her face appear in front of him on the wall. A hazy ruby outline of her eyes stared back at him. Two more drops fell from his mournful eyes and she disappeared, replaced by a bloody smudge. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes as his legs gave way. He slammed against the wall and slid down to the floor defeated. His eyes painfully opened, glaring at the alien room of red. It became a gloomy purple, but quickly turned red again as he hit the floor with his fist and felt another surge of anger. There was a glass and fruit on the table. It was almost as if she was here. Lurking in the shadows of the room, she seemed to mock him. He squinted, not believing his deceiving mind. Before he could take a better look, his eyes filled with tears. Overwhelmed they escaped from the corners of his red rimed eyes. They left wet trails as they rolled down his face and fell off his chin. He didn't stop them. He just sat, staring as the room blurred and cleared as tears formed and fell. He slowly turned to look at the table, where she sat. The red figure turned to him, smiled and disappeared. He glanced at the drawers at the far back of the room and saw the red feminine figure leaning over shuffling in the drawers looking for something. Everything blurred and all was red. He didn't wait for his vision to clear. He couldn't look anymore. He closed his eyes, and let the tears escape and run away from him like the person that inspired them. Wet salty spots spread on the red floor. Glossy and reflective they peered up at the man in agony.
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