[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : Leave A Story , Leave A Comment - The Dark Gift Edition !

# The Mortality of a Stubbed Toe # 
 
 
 `` Again, I really am sorry. `` 
 
 
 `` Thank you... It'll turn out for the best.'' Malcolm smiled. `` Pain, after all, gives way to great art.'' 
 
 
 `` Or suicide.'' Meg quipped with her usual dash of dark humor, though more subdued than usual. 
 
 
 He shrugged. `` Or suicide; An art form in it's own right'' 
 
 
 She gave him a strange look. `` An art form?'' 
 
 
 He nodded, spinning on his stool to face the abstract painting appearing on his canvas. It looked vaguely like a city, though what features she could make out were oddly disassociated-a turret from a castle sprouting from the steel and glass of a skyscraper, for one. 
 
 
 `` Personally, I find it morally reprehensible. Even so, the artistic potential is surprisingly substantial.'' 
 
 
 ``... You're a bit frightening sometimes, you know that right?'' She laughed in a way that let him know he was joking. He appreciated the sentiment, but cringed inwardly all the same. He still knew she was joking. Still knew who she was. At least, he thought he did. She should n't feel like she had to tell him. 
 
 
 He chuckeled politely. ``'Disturbed' is part of an artist's pedigree, do n't you know? But really, I think art can be found in anything that invokes strong emotion. `` 
 
 
 `` So, when I stubbed my toe on the table leg this morning... that was art? `` 
 
 
 `` Well... if you think about it.'' 
 
 
 `` What's to think about? `` 
 
 
 `` Well, most obviously, a stubbed toe encompasses pain-possibly the most relatable emotion we possess. And not only pain, but a specific kind of pain. The needless, inconviant pain those blessed with feeling in their limbs feel on a daily basis. A pain that, even for a moment, for a split second, makes you wish that you were n't you. That you did n't exsist as you do in that moment. It can make you desire, even subconsciously, for something better, or at least for a reason behind something so trivial, so unnecessarily unpleasant. The pain of a stubbed toe, and similar sensations, is a consistent provocation of longing inside us. It can make us search for a higher plane, for something to look forward to besides the mundane, subtle torture life exposes to us everyday. It can provoke in us, for the short time it lasts, the necessity of meaning. One could say then, that a stubbed toe is a standard of the human condition. A near perfect example of our mortal coil.'' 
 
 
 `` Malcolm.'' 
 
 
 `` Yes?'' 
 
 
 She stood, and kissed his forehead. She did n't see the brief expression of pain that crossed his face. 
 
 
 `` You think too much. `` 
 
 
 `` I know. `` 
 
 
 She left the loft, closing the door gently behind her, leaving him to stare in her wake. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

