Rolla
Rolla © H. Gervex (1878) , Musee des B.-Arts de Bordeau 
Best Interpretation: “He dressed, as he usually did after their messy love-making. This time, however, he did not leave immediately as was the norm. This time, he stayed maybe a minute longer than he should have. He studied her face, the contour of her body, the stickiness of the sheets, which clung to her thighs in sweaty embrace. She lay sleepy with post-passion exuberance. This time, she did not bade him to take leave as she had done many days before. It seemed as if they both wanted to get caught–as if their most inner desires were speaking out loud.
Then, they heard foot steps echoing from the landing outside. She closed her eyes in awkward prayer. He left his shirt as it was–unbuttoned–and did nothing to remedy it from haphazardly escaping his unbound trousers. ” […Read all] -Brian Jaime
Issue Feb 2008
Impressionism
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Orofeo de Salamanca arrived at their usual rendezvous time; however, he found her lying in the aftermath of passionate love-making. Who had preceded him? She was asleep, lying as “he” had left her. Orofeo would track him down and slice him from top to bottom, leaving him for the crows and buzzards.
Or… had her lover been in her dream? Had she ravished herself in anticipation of Orofeo? Would he ever know the truth?
She’s either a prostitute or his lover.
He dressed, as he usually did after their messy love-making. This time, however, he did not leave immediately as was the norm. This time, he stayed maybe a minute longer than he should have. He studied her face, the contour of her body, the stickiness of the sheets, which clung to her thighs in sweaty embrace. She lay sleepy with post-passion exuberance. This time, she did not bade him to take leave as she had done many days before. It seemed as if they both wanted to get caught–as if their most inner desires were speaking out loud.
Then, they heard foot steps echoing from the landing outside. She closed her eyes in awkward prayer. He left his shirt as it was–unbuttoned–and did nothing to remedy it from haphazardly escaping his unbound trousers.
“My wife,” he said with a tone of nonchalance in his voice, “she’s just outside the door.” He did not even contemplate climbing out the window behind him and scaling down to the balcony below, which he had become accustomed to doing many times before. She opened her eyes for a mere second before closing them again. Without even the slightest glance in his direction, she spoke with stillness in her voice.
“Let her come. There is nothing of either us that my sister has not seen before.”
She’s a broken women who has seen a lot of men come and go and really doesn’t care about herself anymore. She’s not bothering to get up, cover up — she doesn’t even care to see him leave. She’s very numb with sadness.