First and Last Date

What are they?” He asked. His voice came out as a weird whisper croak. He was not used to being in a gallery. It was cold, stark, and echo infested. She laughed. It came out as an annoying sound. He barely knew her but he did not like it. “It’s Dali models,” she whispered. “I’ll be one of them.” “If you shoot up sixteen inches and lose sixty-five pounds maybe.” He did not know he’d said this aloud. She left swiftly. First and last date. Rudely interrupted by his own brazen honesty. He stared at Dali’s painting. It was nothing like he had ever seen. Was that a lion or a dog’s head? Was that tiny itsy bitsy man Dali? Bad date. Fabulous introduction though to his new favorite artist. Salvador Dali.