It was the first apartment they shared. It was a quaint lodging, located on a tree-lined street, near the intersection of Thompson & Bleecker. There was an Italian restaurant across the way, a delicatessen, and a dry cleaner, conveniently located along the same queue. Maxwell had taken a course in structural engineering at NYU, whilst Claire was studying with the renowned Thomas Keller, who was on the cusp of unveiling Per Se in Columbus Circle. When one course became another in environmentally sustainable design, their summer haunt would become the genesis of home.
Maxwell stood in the doorway, harbored beneath the arch of the portal’s frame. He idled pensively, hands submerged into the depths of his bespoke trousers. Though they had not inhabited the residence in some while, he could not bear to let it go. Claire thought her husband too sentimental and suggested a sublease arrangement, however the thought of unfamiliar persons occupying the dwelling where he made functional art and love to his wife, seemed out of order.
And so, the residence at Thompson & Bleecker lay dormant, functioning solely as a storage space for his earlier conceptual works. There were titanium lamps married to sunstone, ornate sofas, and walnut desks, fused with jasper.
He thought of the travel.
Of the commitment required to create such pieces.
Mostly, he thought of his wife.
Maxwell stood, absorbing the makeshift museum that he meticulously sustained, for his cerebral benefit.
And considered how it might benefit another.
Implode. Part XLVI – DK