The Blind Date

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Leaping up in down in an attempt to zip the dress hugging her curvaceous figure, Tanya couldn’t help but laugh. Her friend set up on a blind date with one of her coworkers named Roy. It was the last thing she had in mind for this Friday evening. She hadn’t been on a date in months after breaking up with her longtime boyfriend.

The ring of the doorbell, disrupted her in the middle of curling her hair. She sprinted to the door, opening it to find a man with one of the most symmetrical faces she came across and as an artist, she couldn’t help, but gape.

“Hello” He grinned, the edge of his face stretching into a perfect smile.

“Hi” She blushed, self-conscious about the rolling pins in her hair. “Do you mind if I…?” She paused.

“No, go ahead. You look lovely”

“Thanks,” she said, rushing back upstairs to the bathroom.

When she returned to the living room, she noticed him staring at the portrait paintings along the wall.

“Did you paint these?” He grinned with his hands folded behind his back, turning to her.

“Every last one of them” She smiled to herself.

“You’re pretty talented” He rubbed her back catching her off guard, and she gently removed his hand from her raised shoulder.

“So are you ready to go,” she answered.

“More than ready.

The ride to the restaurant was faster than she anticipated, but the silence that permeated the car was uncomfortable. Roy seemed so caught up in glancing at himself in the rearview mirror at any chance he got. It was frustrating that again, Cheryl set her up with a shallow guy.

As they sat deciding on an order, Roy suddenly put down the menu and gripped her hands resting on the table reading entrée options, surprising her.

“Tanya, I know we hardly know each other, but I have a favor to ask of you” His gray eyes widening. Her brow rose.

“What kind of favor?”

“Can you design a new face for me?”

“Do I look like a plastic surgeon?” Her nose wrinkled.

“I’m tired of the one I have, it doesn’t suit my current taste it looks too happy. I want something a little more serious. It was designed by another painter.”

“You’re kidding right” Her eyes narrowed at him.

“No, look” His eyes surveyed the area and when he was sure there were no spectators, his hands gripped the corners of his face pulling it off like a mask, leaving nothing but an empty shell. It landed on the table clean of blood, and she covered her mouth.

Now that it was on the table it was clear that someone painted it for him, and she turned, holding in the vomit rising in her throat. When she stole another glance at it, the eyes of it moved, towards her and a grin spread across its face. She leapt up.

“Stay away from me!” she shouted, and he shrugged picking up his face, pushing it back on, just in time to see her leave.

 

 

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