Art By Any Other Name: The Masked Angel Looks Familiar

“Um…familiar,” I tried to play innocent here. Telling Duncan that he was actually my inspiration for my masked angel—not just inspiration, but the masked angel himself, was not something I had planned for the night. Oh, this was so not good. I had to think of something…anything other than the truth.

“Yeah, familiar…like I’ve seen him before.” He grinned. I knew he knew at that moment. He was just giving me a chance to fess up or run. Well, there was no time like the present.

“Maybe he looks familiar because he’s you. You’re my inspiration.” Clearly the woman with him in the second picture of tonight’s assignment had been me, wrapped in my angel’s wings with my head pressed against his chest—I, of course, made me taller in the drawing. What else was I supposed to do? Duncan is six feet and I’m just over five feet, seriously, had I drawn myself to scale I would have gotten lost in those massive wings. Right now size wasn’t the issue. The issue was that I had just told Duncan, and a round about way, that I liked him. My heart in my throat I waited for his response. Would he feel the same way, or would he try to find a nice way of letting me down gently? Would I be making a date; or would I be trying to find a reason to miss the next few classes? Utter humiliation. Does that fall under the category of sick?


What comes next?

  1. He revealed a secret of his own.
  2. He laughed nervously.
  3. He thought the masked angel was the professor.






  1. It would be hard to resist an invitation like that if there was the smallest spark of interest. At least he knows she’s interested.

  2. Well I don’t know how hard it would be to resist, but you’re right…he now knows she’s interested. What he does with that information is up to him…oh, no; in this case I guess it’s kind of up to me and anybody who votes on the direction the story takes.

    Thanks for stopping in, Bob.

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