‘Why do you stay here’, Paul keeps asking me. ‘come with me to Tahiti, where the weather is good and the girls are better.’
This is home. I don’t want to leave. But the picture he paints is appealing.
Nobody here appreciates me. It would be nice to have half naked girls ministering to me. I spend every franc I have on paint, and can barely afford food. To have a village feed me unlimited fish and fruit is enticing. I am tempted to leave for Tahiti.
If I paint myself into this picture, would I be compelled to stay?
A drabble is a story told in exactly 100 words.