by Cat T. Mad
When at lunchtime the noise died down abruptly, a relieved sigh passed his lips. Once again he took his seat in front of his workplace, he reached for his pen and he tried to commit his thoughts to paper. After a few minutes however, the sheet exactly landed there, where the other ones had found an accommodation on the previous evening, in the wastebasket. Just then when he decided to relax on the couch for an hour, the horrible noise reached his ears again. Dominic uttered a tortured sound, and he placed his head on the surface of his desk. The hammering indefatigably radiated through his apartment in the same manner as he had heard it during the whole morning, and it drove him to insanity. A soft, but furious cry passed his lips. He got up and went in the direction of the French window. With a scowl, he looked through the glass. Dominic came to the conclusion that the construction work had to be directly in front of the house, because he couldn’t spot anything on the opposite side of the road. He snorted, opened the door and stepped on the balcony. His assumption was confirmed when he glanced downwards. A small construction unit of three people was in the train of tearing open the road.
“Shit, there it goes,” Dominic realized, when he spotted the marks on the lane of traffic. The construction workers would clearly be occupied for a longer period of time. He nearly was tempted to raise his arms into the air and to yell at them that he couldn’t work under these circumstances. He already visualized the gun his publisher would aim at his head. Softly sighing, he braced himself against the railing of the balcony and closed his eyelids. Why was everything and everyone conspiring against him? When he opened them again, he set eyes on the man who handled the sledgehammer.
“Tzzzz,” escaped his mouth with surprise. His gaze was focused on a naked back. Dominic’s jaw dropped one inch after another, while he scrutinized the body on the street. Because of the summer heat, the tanned skin of the man was covered with a glossy layer. The guy had long, curly hair that he had tied up behind his neck. Dominic regretted that the rest of his head was protected by a baseball cap. Below it, Dominic spotted a knotted cloth in order to absorb the sweat. His eyes explored the muscled shoulders of the other man, down to his butts in black work pants which made Dominic’s eyebrows lift in a rapture.
The observed person turned slightly in the course of his work, so that Dominic could catch a glimpse of his facial features. The mere view of his defined abdominal muscles was reason enough that a sigh left his lips. His former hell seemed to turn into a paradise at this moment. The man he had tried to outline for weeks had come alive, and he was tearing up the street in front of his eyes. A secret smile flashed over Dominic’s face. Five minutes later he had made himself comfortable with a drawing board, a MP 3 player and a cold drink on the balcony. The pen in his hand was literally flying over the paper, while Dominic glanced down time and again. He regretted that he couldn’t see the face of the man. Even then when he turned around, the sun protection of the builder made sure that he merely could spot his clear-cut chin. Nevertheless, the view of his muscular chest wanted to push his blood into his lumbar region. Dominic bit his lower lip and he concentrated on the Viking again who visibly took shape more and more. Just then when he darted a glance over the railing one more time, the machines were switched off. The man he was focusing on pulled off the baseball cap from his head. He was tempted to forget about the Viking and to commit a comic to paper which was about pirates. At this precise moment, the guy on the street unfastened the cloth and wiped his face with it.
“Wow,” was the only thing he could utter at this sight.
A few curly, blond strands had unloosened and framed a face that seemed to be perfect. He literally sucked the picture in which was offered to him, he licked his lips and he hurriedly turned his attention to the piece of paper in front of him in order to put down the view that was burned in his reticulum. His night was short. It was as if a spell had been broken, and even the walls of his work room gave evidence of it. The first pictures were put in lines, and Dominic’s imagination gradually took shape. When the noises of the previous day resounded again in the early morning hours, he woke up with a smirking smile all over his face. He anticipated that he would be confronted with a very creative day. Softly singing, he jumped into the shower, and moments later he took a seat on the balcony and had breakfast there. He almost would have shouted with glee, when the blond man in view of the increasing temperatures put off his close-fitting T-shirt and continued working with his bare upper body.
At lunchtime he forced himself to go shopping, so that he could spend the remaining time with drawing and looking down.
