COMEDY OR TRAGEDY

Art by MOrtiz. IG: _miiart_

“Mal? Where are you? I need the goat’s milk for my bath!”

Pygmalion grit his teeth to keep bitter words from spilling out. He took a deep breath and tried to keep the knife-like edge from his voice.

“Coming” he answered. He gave the goat’s teat a couple more painful twists, drawing a reproachful look and a surprised bleat out of it. He took a look at the pitiful amount of milk in his pail and gave a sigh. She was not going to be happy.

“Maaaaal? The goat’s milk!” Her lilting voice, once so sweet to his ears, wafted over to pummel him into action. He stood up and hurried inside the house. 

As he came into the bath, he took a deep breath and steeled himself against what he was about to see, all the time knowing it would do no good.

“This is all I could get, Galatea.” he said, keeping his eyes on the ground while handing over the pail.

Silence. He could hear his own breathing and the bead of sweat stealthily creeping down his brow.

“Mal? This isn’t enough.” she said.

“But the goat has nothing more to give. We’ve drained her, with all the milk you ne…” he cut off his words by biting on his tongue.

“Look at me, Mal.” she asked.

He said nothing. Did nothing. 

“Look at me.” She asked again.

So he did. And promptly lost himself in the ivory smoothness of her skin, the unfathomable depth of her green, no, her blue eyes, the gentle slope of her clavicle leading his eyes to her bosom and below.  And he knew all was lost.

“I will steal the goat of Linnaeus.” Mal murmured. “I heard that she gives lots of milk, more than his family needs.”

“Thanks, Mal. “ she said. “I will be here waiting. And when you come back with the milk, maybe you can help me with my bath.”

He left as fast as he could, cursing the day he stopped being his own man and became hers.