This is a draft of a flash fiction story.  I welcome any and all feedback and constructive criticism:

The opening night reception for my first art exhibit yielded more than I could have imagined.  I sold four of my paintings, each around $4,000.  I also received my first commission:  $8,000 for a painting of a human heart.  Initially repulsed by the idea, I was persuaded when the gallery owner explained the patron was a famous heart surgeon.  He wanted an oversized linen canvass for his doctor’s office and I could take as long as I wanted.  My final bounty came just as the reception was ending:  Richard.

He came into my life that night like a surfer catching the wave of my newfound success.  Through the crowd, those brown eyes of his were never far away as I saw to my customers, potential customers and patrons.  As the reception ended and people trickled out, he stood in front of the picture window by the gallery door.  The track light reflected off his glasses, but I knew his eyes were focused only on me.  Looking like an interesting blend of intellectual and beatnik, he asked if I’d like to join him for a glass of wine.  Questions and conversation flowed as easily as the wine in that dusky bar that April evening.  And so began our romance.

The next day I bought the materials for my commissioned painting and began work in my loft studio in Soho.  I studied pictures and drawings of human hearts and began framing the painting; measuring out the space on the giant canvass.  In the next days, Richard and I became inexorably intertwined and the painting began to take shape.  Ventricles and arteries came to life in vivid pyrrole orange, quinacridone red and cadmium red.  The colors on the canvass echoed the passion screaming through my own veins.

Summer came and Richard and I savored each other and the warm breezes.  We left galleries and bars behind and moved on to hiking and picnicking.  I began to flirt with the idea that this may lead somewhere.  Unsure of where somewhere was, it was certainly a place I’d like to go with Richard.  My painting took on new contours and patterns.  Hansa yellow like the sunshine comprised sinew, providing a protective shell for the heart.  Chromium oxide green like the leaves and grass provided soft shadows that gave the heart a depth that balanced its vibrancy. 

Richard turned cool as the temperatures fell in the autumn.  He was still there, but more distant, unreachable.  The thread that had wound us so tightly during the summer began to fray and strain.  The painting took on a surreal quality as powerful swathes of cobalt blue and primary cyan and cerulean blue came to overshadow the vibrant reds. 

The heart looked troubled as Richard dealt the final blow and left me as the first snow fell.  Zinc white and titanium white intermingled among the blues looking like snowflakes and oxygen-starved cells.

Through my tears, I stared at the heart.  There it lay on the canvass - the entire story of our love.  Traces of all the colors could still be seen and they read themselves to me like a diary.  Valves, atriums and veins spoke in a cacophony. 

I called the surgeon and asked him if he could receive the painting that afternoon.  He eagerly agreed and I arranged for the workers to dismantle the frame and roll the painting for transport.  They carried the painting out and my heart breathed a sigh of relief.

I really enjoyed reading this.  Brilliant imagery!

Amen on the imagery, and on the metaphor/relation between the heart and her life. Very creative!!