2 December 2012
My chin was resting in both of my hands as I watched him draw. It was a beautiful sight, really. The careful movements of his left hand made strokes across the paper, and his brow furrowed in deep concentration as he drew the scene that lay before him.
I stared at his profile for a long time, admiring his dark, long lashes that casted shadows on his pale cheeks, admiring the way his overgrown hair was carefully mussed. It was then that I realized that my right hand was in the air, reaching out to him.
His head snapped to face me, and upon noticing my hand, he looked quizzically at me.
My mouth opened as I frantically searched for a believable response.
"You, uh, had something in your hair," I muttered as I lamely dropped my hand into my lap and looked away, into the deep forest to the left of us.
"Okay," he said suspiciously. "Anyway, what do you think so far?"
I sighed and looked at his sketchbook. It was a beautiful drawing.
"It looks fine," I commented.
"I can't seem to get that one tree right though," he groaned.
"I think it looks nice," I encouraged. "You're too critical."
He looked into my eyes and smiled.
"Well, I'm done here. It's going to get dark soon."
He carefully put away his pencils and then threw everything into his string bag.
"Want me to drive you home?" I asked him as I hefted myself up.
"Nah, I'll walk. I'll observe the trees and hopefully I'll be able to draw them correctly next time."
I nodded my head and headed toward the clearing, where my car was parked. And then, on second thought, I spun back around.
"Wanna grab something to eat?" I asked boldly.
He looked up from zippering his jacket. "Okay."
"Like, a date," I elaborated nervously.
He stared critically at me for a moment and then answered. "Sounds good."
The Artist • Opuss № I