The Persistence of Lisa

The model squirmed on her damp seat; it had been six hours, and she was restless, fidgety, and now in desperate need of the loo.

“Remby,” Lisa asked as the painter took a step back from his easel to admire his work, “have you much more to do… I need to powder my nose.”

Rembrandt huffed, looked at his painting, back at Lisa, back at the painting, back at Lisa, huffed again, dabbed some golden ochre, then said, “There… done… finished… yes, you can g…”; Lisa was already halfway across the studio.

Proud of his work, Rembrandt began tidying away some of his art equipment, although he continued analysing sections of the canvas.

“It was the foam,” Lisa explained as she returned to admire the work, “it seeped through the cushion, and I really couldn’t take the damp feeling anymore… but I like the painting… quite celestial yet enigmatic.”

“It’s The Persistence of Lisa, Lisa,” Rembrandt said with a quick smile, “it represents the hidden beauty of the correlation between the concept of time standing still, the fluidity of time, and a fixed point…” his voice trailed off as the word fluid suddenly made him realise his nose needed powdering too.

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Posted for Six Sentence Stories. This week’s prompt word is Foam.