Barcode looked up and me, almost seeming ashamed of my question.
"I think you already know the answer to that." He said simply as I let him out of the closet.
I didn’t say to him how much I loved his tear piece, but instead just made us both coffees as he took a seat at the sofa, trying to relax.
“Close call?” I asked thinking about the bigger piece that was probably smashed to bits by now. I could imagine its existence cut so short, and feeling bad for Barcode, since he must have put a large amount of time into making it.
“Yeah,” he said, “And another piece gone.”
The mood was downcast, but then as I looked around the room at my unused spray cans in the corner, from when I wanted to paint my smaller pieces of furniture, I got an odd idea. A dangerous idea.
“I’m thinking of going into street art.” I said, catching Barcodes attention. “Any pointers?”
He looked at me like I just killed the president, but then answered me with a slight smile on his face. “If you’re serious about it I can show you some spots. You have to do the work and provide the materials though.”
I chuckled a little, knowing where I can get good paint, and cheaply too. But it’s not all about the paint, I realized. It’s the picture you make with it.
“I can do that.” I said with minor confidence. I knew the dangers of this too, including the cops and running into people who knew me. But at this point, I was willing to go all in.
Barcode held out his hand, “Then I’m Barcode, as you already know. Since you’re new you need an alias. That can be decided later though,” He said, standing up with me as he headed for the door, the police far gone.
“Want to go out for a run?” He asked.