Dreams - Kali Prasad x Barbara Holland
Kali Prasad and Barbara Holland in their industrial loft somewhere in Chicago. Sporadic fluorescent sheets of cellophane on the window panels above her head of short rusty hair, glowing in the near-noon light, Barb sits up in a bed of mismatched sheets.
Sleep is still in her warm brown eyes, they're squinting behind eyeglasses needing to be wiped, but not yet- as she's busy scrawling away her fast-fading recollection of the dream she just had.
Ink from the closest bedside pen on her fingers, she tugs on the collar of her oversized cotton tee, already warmed by the summer morning heat that will turn insufferable in the next few hours.
That little two-speed tin box fan helps, but barely.
This space is too open for the breeze to fill, but not for the sound of Fad Gadget and the Gun Club wafting in from the crack made by the brick-propped door to the small rooftop space.
She is out there, shoulders being kissed by the cloudless sky that makes her spray-paint aluminum burn her callouses as she jumps around the Daydream Believer palette. Colors she wouldn't personally pick for herself, but an endeavor accepted by the fire in her belly
Stencil by stencil on canvas, this portrait project is far from complete by her gritty beau ideals.
Another day or so, it'll be ready to offer to her deity, who she senses, just woke up.
With a faint toluene smell on her chipped-black nail polish fingertips, she pulls down the black bandana covering half of her face on the way back inside. The air in their space, only a few degrees cooler than the hot hot hot rooftop heat, is but relief on her skin as she cooly walks the distance back to where Barb still sits-
A quick stop to the kitchen first, coffee with three sugars and a splash of cream- just the way she likes it. The metal spoon scraping the bottom of an old ceramic mug, she approaches the platform-raised full-sized bed.
"Good morning," the redhead sweetly coos, beating Kali to the first greeting.
"Sweet dreams last night, Barbie?" she tilts her head while noting that sticker-covered artichoke moleskin Barb keeps on her side of the bed, making that dark plum purple mohawk tied into a droopy bun dangle off to the side.
An affirming hum fills the space between them before a kiss. Barb's lips, still warm from sleep, meet with Kali's lingering pineapple lip balm-looted from the other girl.
Four and a half pages of inklings, Kali doesn't pry, out-of-body experiences will be divulged to her ears like the morning paper as she slides off untied combat boots to sit with the other girl in the nest of blankets and inharmonious pillows.
Between palms, Barb cups her favorite mug, her share of the honey-and-vanilla speckled stoneware pair. She sips sweet caramel-colored coffee and smiles, watching as Kali stretches out her limbs like a cat in matching black harem pants peppered with dark rose and orange.
From where Kali lays, Barb can smell the sunshine, sweet and ripe like nectar fruit on her person.
She sighs, contently, scanning over Kali's dark features. Kind eyes waiting- intent, patient.
"Have you ever been to the beach?"