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MidReal Story
Muse Next Door
Anonymous
Oct 26
Scenario:how terry doda meant lisa ricker
Create my version of this story
Lisa Ricker
vibrant and social neighbor of Terry, becomes romantically involved with Terry, short with bright eyes and a warm smile, outgoing and empathetic.
Terry Doda
reclusive artist, no direct relationships, tall with unkempt hair, introverted and creative.
Mark Jensen
mutual friend of Terry and Lisa who introduces them, friend to both Terry and Lisa, athletic build with a friendly demeanor, sociable and supportive.
I was a recluse.
A hermit.
A shut-in.
And I was perfectly happy that way.
I had everything I needed in my little house on the outskirts of town.
I had my art supplies, my books, and a few good friends who didn’t mind coming to me when they wanted to hang out.
I had no need for the outside world, and it had no need for me.
At least that’s what I thought until she moved in next door.
She was like a breath of fresh air blowing through my dusty old life, and I couldn’t help but be drawn to her light.
Even though I knew it would only end in heartache.
But sometimes, you have to risk getting burned if you want to feel the heat…
I stood at my window, watching as the moving truck pulled up next door.
A woman stepped out, her bright eyes scanning the neighborhood with a mix of curiosity and excitement.
She had a warm smile that seemed to light up the entire street.
I felt a strange pull in my chest, something I hadn’t felt in years.
Just then, there was a knock on my door.
I sighed, knowing exactly who it was.
Mark never could take a hint.
I opened the door to find him grinning like a Cheshire cat.
“Hey, Terry! Did you see the new neighbor?” he asked, practically bouncing on his feet.
“Yeah, I saw,” I replied, trying to keep my voice neutral.
“Well, come on then! Let’s go say hi!” Mark grabbed my arm and started pulling me towards the door.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I protested, trying to dig my heels into the carpet.
“Nonsense! You need to get out more. Besides, she seems nice,” Mark insisted, dragging me outside despite my resistance.
We walked over to where Lisa was directing the movers.
She turned and saw us approaching, her smile widening even further.
“Hi there! I’m Lisa,” she said cheerfully, extending her hand.
Mark shook her hand enthusiastically. “Hi, Lisa! I’m Mark, and this is Terry. We live next door.”
I gave a small wave, feeling awkward and out of place.
“Nice to meet you,” I mumbled.
Lisa’s eyes sparkled as she looked at me. “Nice to meet you too, Terry. It’s great to finally meet some neighbors!”
Mark nudged me with his elbow. “Terry’s an artist. He spends most of his time in his studio.”
“Oh really? That’s amazing! What kind of art do you do?” Lisa asked, her interest genuine.
“Mostly painting,” I replied, feeling a little more at ease under her warm gaze.
“That’s wonderful! I’d love to see your work sometime,” she said with enthusiasm.
I felt a spark of excitement at her words, something I hadn’t felt in a long time.
“Maybe… maybe sometime,” I stammered.
Lisa smiled again. “I’ll hold you to that.”
As we chatted briefly about mundane things like the weather and the neighborhood, I couldn’t help but feel drawn to her warmth.
It was such a stark contrast to my own isolation.
But as we said our goodbyes and headed back to our respective homes, I felt a mix of fear and excitement swirling inside me.
Back in my studio, I tried to focus on my latest painting.
But my mind kept drifting back to Lisa.
Her bright eyes.
Her warm smile.
The way she made me feel alive again.
I picked up my brush and stared at the blank canvas in front of me.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the thoughts of her from my mind.
With a frustrated sigh, I put down the brush and ran my fingers through my hair.
Suddenly, there was another knock on my door.
My heart skipped a beat as I wondered if it could be Lisa.
Her bright eyes met mine, and she smiled warmly.
"I thought you might like these," she said, extending the plate.
My heart pounded as I took the cookies, our fingers briefly touching.
"Thank you," I mumbled, feeling awkward but grateful.
Lisa glanced around my studio, her curiosity evident.
"Mind if I come in?" she asked.
I hesitated but then stepped aside.
She entered, looking at my paintings with genuine admiration.
"These are amazing," she said softly.
For the first time in years, I felt seen and understood.
Lisa walked slowly around the room, her eyes taking in every detail of my work.
The walls were covered with canvases of various sizes, each depicting a different scene or emotion.
The smell of paint and turpentine filled the air, mixing with the faint scent of cookies from the plate in my hands.
"You have a real talent," Lisa said, stopping in front of a landscape painting I had been working on for weeks.
"How long have you been painting?"
"Since I was a kid," I replied, setting the plate down on a cluttered table. "It's always been my escape."
She turned to face me, her expression thoughtful. "Escape from what?"
I shrugged, feeling a little exposed. "Life, I guess. It's easier to lose myself in my art than deal with... everything else."
Lisa nodded as if she understood completely. "I get that. Everyone needs something to hold onto."
We stood there in silence for a moment, the only sound being the ticking of an old clock on the wall.
"Would you like some coffee?" I blurted out, desperate to fill the quiet.
"Sure," she said with a smile. "I'd love some."
I moved to the small kitchenette in the corner of the studio and started brewing a pot of coffee.
Lisa continued to explore my space, occasionally stopping to examine a painting more closely.
"You really capture emotions well," she commented as she studied a portrait of an elderly man with sorrowful eyes.
"Thanks," I said over my shoulder. "I try to paint what I feel."
She looked at me then, her gaze intense. "And what do you feel right now?"
I swallowed hard, unsure how to answer. "A lot of things," I admitted finally.
Lisa walked over to me and placed a hand on my arm. "You don't have to be alone all the time, you know."
Her touch was warm and comforting, and for a moment, I allowed myself to believe that maybe she was right.
The coffee finished brewing, and I poured us each a cup. We sat down at a small table by the window, sipping our drinks in companionable silence.
"So," Lisa said after a while, "do you ever show your work anywhere? Galleries or exhibitions?"
I shook my head. "No, I've never had the courage."
"You should," she said firmly. "Your art deserves to be seen."
Her words filled me with a strange mix of hope and fear. The idea of putting myself out there was terrifying, but Lisa's belief in me made it seem almost possible.
"I'll think about it," I said quietly.
Lisa smiled and reached for one of the cookies on the plate. "Good. And if you ever need someone to help you set it up or just be there for support, I'm here."