I stashed the cellphone back to my messenger bag and shouldered it higher in my shoulder. I climbed the stairs of the Rosehall dorm and through a window I saw the beautiful beach and the pleasant waves washing over the shore. A sense of comfort swarm over me and I wished I was down there. I walked over to my dorm and unlocked, allowing me to fully enter into my room for the next four years. It was small, which indicated that a fairly creative way of organization was required. My clothes were still packed in my luggage and many boxed piled around the room. I walked toward a fairly long box and tear apart the tape.

I lift the flaps and inside were the most valuables things I treasured in my life. Sketchbooks, several pencils and colour pencils, markers, and a camera. I flipped through the pages reviving the several drawings I made throughout my short life. Drawings of beautiful scenery, people hanging out at the mall or any public space, animals, nature, and most of all the moon.

A small tear fell down my cheek and into my sketchbook. I would be forced to leave art behind and submerged myself into the simple life of a scientist. I reached inside my pocket to find the paper of the afternoon art classes. Sasha Tillman seem like a nice person, her voice range placed her in her early twenties and she sounded cheerful enough. I was truly looking forward for the sunset.


I walked toward the recreational center close to the university, my shadow was cast long in the ground seeing that the sun was directly behind me. I turned around and gave the sunset a fleeting glance before entering inside the building. I walked down the hallway as indicated by the receptionist and entered a very decorative and lighted room. Empty canvas were set in place before chairs placed in semicircle. Some people were already assembled there, not many of my age. This fact made me feel somewhat at ease, I never get along with people my age.

In every one of my classes, I was sitting at the far back, avoiding everybody's glances and reserving my thoughts to myself. The only time I spoke up was when the professor asked me questions, nothing more. I enjoyed being a lonesome creature, that way, you didn't have to worry about somebody hurting you. I would rather live like that, I need nobody.

"Hey, sweety," a middle-aged woman greeted me with a warm smile. "How are you doing this evening? Ah, to think that young souls appreciate art is comforting!"

I forced a smile which apparently turned out into a grimace because the woman quickly turned around and ignored me. I rolled my eyes and plugged my ears with my earphones, rolling the volume of my ipod up.

Some minutes passed and the class was filing in with people, some cheerful conversation erupted in the room. I blocked out the sound, concentrating on the empty canvas before me.

The door finally opened one last time and a young woman sauntered inside. Her expression was lighted with a bright, cheery smile. Her hair was tied back with a piece of ribbon and strands of loose hair dangled carelessly above her shoulders. Her blue eyes showed confidence and a clever soul. Her general gaiety was attractive, captivating, and engaging.

I find myself staring at her like something sacred and untouchable.

My heart skipped a beat.

The End

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