"That's a nice camera, Charlie,"
I nodded to the camera peeking out of
his shoulder bag.
"T-Thanks, it belonged to..."
His voice drifted off, whisking itself
with the hurricane of tiny leaves at
the ends of the streets. His head
got clouded with memories and it
seemed as if he forgot who he was talking
to.
"Uh..Charlie, are you okay?"
He jumped into the empty void of
reality, "Oh, O-yeah, I'm okay.
It's nothing."
"Okay, anyway, I was thinking
about how each of us can create
a list of our own drawing styles
and things we want to include in the
painting. Maybe from the list, we can
come up with a masterpiece."
"Mhm.." He nodded and quietly rubbed his
thumb across the lens of the camera.
"Charlie, what's wrong?" I squeezed
his shoulder gently.
"Th-This b-belonged to my girlfriend."
I dropped my hand, "Oh, I'm sorry,
Charlie. I didn't mean to bring it up."
"It's o-okay. Sorry to darken the
mood," He mustered a fake chuckle.
"A-Anyway, about that list. I'll g-give you
mine tomorrow morning. S-See you a-around."
He placed the camera back into his
shoulder bag and walked into the main building
of the university.
I watched as he walked away, and
let out a sigh.
YOU ARE READING
shades of red
Poetrywhen you have too many thorns, all you can do is paint them in red, because, maybe then, they will look like petals [sequel to shades of blue]
