Mao Ii
Mao Ii
“It was a reproduction of a pencil drawing called Mao II. She unrolled it on the bed and used objects in reach to hold down the corners. She studied the picture to see what was interesting about it or why Scott thought she might like it. The face of Mao Zedong. She liked that name all right. It was strange how a few lines with a pencil and there he is, some shading in, a scribbled neck and brows. It was by a famous painter whose name she could never remember but he was famous, he was dead, he ha...d a white mask of a face and glowing white hair. Or maybe he was just supposed to be dead. Scott said he didn’t seem dead because he never seemed real. Andy. That was it.
Scott was washing coffee cups.
Bill came in and said, “What are you doing?”
Scott looked into the basin, running a sponge around the inside of a cup.
“We could walk up to the mill. It’s a nice enough day.”
“You have to work,” Scott said.
“I’ve worked.”
“It’s early yet. Go back and work some more.”MoreLess
Scott was washing coffee cups.
Bill came in and said, “What are you doing?”
Scott looked into the basin, running a sponge around the inside of a cup.
“We could walk up to the mill. It’s a nice enough day.”
“You have to work,” Scott said.
“I’ve worked.”
“It’s early yet. Go back and work some more.”MoreLess
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