It’s been a while since he put pencil on paper. His focus is stronger than the silence in the crowded room, the only time he doesn’t care about other people. He hunches over his notepad, bad posture like me.
Unlike him, I give up halfway when trying to sketch. I want a meaningful talk between us. He shifts uncomfortably as if reading my mind. I whisper inside jokes, trying to make him laugh.
Mumbles scatter, footsteps urging me on. People stand in his way. When they clear, the portrait stares back, memories come to view. He laughs. Maybe next time.
Unlike him, I give up halfway when trying to sketch. I want a meaningful talk between us. He shifts uncomfortably as if reading my mind. I whisper inside jokes, trying to make him laugh.
Mumbles scatter, footsteps urging me on. People stand in his way. When they clear, the portrait stares back, memories come to view. He laughs. Maybe next time.
