Art classMature

The first day back was going well, in fact, it was probably the best day I'd had. There seemed to be lots of people in my classes with real talent, and everyone seemed to be dedicated to Art. I'd already had several calls from people wanting to take my art class, although most were old people and not part of the younger generation, which meant that my ideas for life drawings and long beach treks to find beautiful imagery was also probably out of the question. But it was ok, it looked like I was going to have fun.

It was my lunch break when my phone rang. I picked up, excusing myself from the conversation I was in.


"Um, hi, I'm calling about the art classes you're holding."

"Oh right, they're at the recreation hall near the university and you have to come at six. What's your name?"

"Cerice Clairoux." French. I thought I'd recognised the accent.

"Well you're welcome to join Cerice, but I might have to warn you that so far it seems your classmates will be around the age of sixty."

"That's fine, anything for art." I was struck by how passionate her voice sounded when she said art.

"Then I look forward to seeing you there."

"Thanks." She hung up and I placed my phone on my desk. Thank goodness I had a younger student. She might convince some of her friends to come along and then I could have the walks and the life studies that I'd planned. I was wrong earlier, it's now the best first day back ever.

I spent the rest of the day happy, grinning and practically skipping around. Everyone thought I was a little nuts. I'm honestly not surprised.

When the final bell rang I packed up my stuff and went to grab a snack to keep me going until after my art class, then went to set up. I always played music while in my class, as background noise, so I had to pick up my cd player. Then I went and unlocked the rec hall and set up some easels and paint in case people didn't have their own. Then I sat back and waited for people to arrive. 

The End

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