The Muse

Literary Yard

By: Adam Kluger

It’s weird. The business of meeting a muse.

The artist known as Dreck didn’t expect much when he started an online correspondence with a mystery woman named Cricket who posted no photographs online. It was intriguing to carry on “swiper dialogue” without having the foggiest idea of what another person looks like. They chatted online for a couple of weeks until they decided to meet for coffee outside the Cooper Hewitt.

She didn’t look like what he expected.

Her face was unusual. Different. Primal.Her body was athletic except for an adorable pot belly.

He didn’t think much when she grabbed him on the street and forced a long, French kiss. She was Polynesian. From some Island near Bora Bora that was hard to pronounce. Her skin was tawny and smooth. Her face was broad and dignified. Her voice was a high pitch squeal and she was hard…

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