distraction

It had been nearly half an hour. The stiff gesture sat lifelessly on my page. I rolled the piece of charcoal between my index finger and thumb, and deep black powder dusted off as its coarse grain curled around. Red sat across from me, appeased by a ham sandwich. His grizzled jaw twisted over his meal, but the rest of his body was still and calm. Frozen in ham-sandwich heaven, and I was frozen too.

I turned the page again and laid out his spine, his shoulders, his hips. Nothing. This time too loose. I wiped the lines away with the palm of my hand. It came up black. And down again with a growing urgency.

Spine. Shoulders. Hips. Wipe. Again and again.

My paper became saturated. I turned to the next page and the pad cracked under the tremendous weight of my anxiety. I peered at Red and saw nothing. I searched him: his posture, his form, the shadows he cast. I squeezed my eyelids closed and searched myself, but all I found were two red dots, then one green one. I touched the charcoal to the paper and it failed me.

I rolled the sketches back under the cover of the pad. I flicked the diminished piece of charcoal onto the concrete path and rubbed my strained hands against my thighs. I decided to go home, seeking solace in a nap. Or was it so close to dusk that I could sleep until tomorrow? Either way, I gathered my things. And before I could get them into my bag they flew out of my hands. The blackened cigarette case, a few pencils, and my exhausted drawing pad scattered onto the ground. Reaching for my things, I looked up to see what had struck me. Miranda. Her messy bun bounced in time with her frantic stride. The distracted girl didn’t stop to apologize, she just kept running. I wondered if she even knew she had hit me. If she knew how many hours I had spent on those drawings that now sank into a muddy flower bed. But then again, I didn’t even know.

Two wooden pencils dropped again from my hand. I rose from my knees and started running. My chest pulled me while my untrained legs followed. My feet shuffled around in my loose shoes. I kicked them off. I kept running. My stride lengthened. And as I pushed forward I wondered where I was going.