Written
Free.
I tuck my feet underneath me before sending a quick glance over to Echo on the other side of the room. He sat at his drawing table, allowing his hand to freely glide over the paper, smudging black shades to form a beautifully done drawing. I feel envy toward him with the want of his ability to take anything and turn it into something gorgeous. Just an ugly clay lump can become a gorgeous sculpture with those hands, yet if I were given the same ugly lump of clay the end product with be just another ugly lump of clay. I want so very much to be able to do the things he is able to do, but I know it is not possible. I am stuck with my limited artistic ability, and by limited I mean, I am only able to write. Though, I suppose, an up side to that, writing is one thing Echo is not very well at.
Practice can fix that.
I groan at my own thoughts, forcing my eyes away from my roommate, I look down at the notebook set in my lap. Tapping my pencil against my thigh I think; I think of everything and anything possible to help me form words on the blank sheet of paper.
After a while Echo moved, shuffling papers in the process and pulling my attention away from my blank notebook. I watch as he moves around the room, placing objects back in their respective spots. Placing my notebook and pencil on the coffee table, I stand, straightening out my skirt as I do so. Echo smiles in my direction upon hearing me move, and I cannot help but smile back. There is something about Echo that always causes me to smile, no matter how envious I am of his talent.
"What are you doing?" I ask, slightly hesitant of the answer to come. Echo stops his movements, holding the chalks in his hand instead of placing them back on their shelf. He looks over at me, an excited glint in his eye- something that honestly frightens me.
"Jordan finally agreed to dinner with me," he said around a grin. I bit my lip, looking away from him as my fingers play with the fraying hem of my jean skirt. I nod once before walking over to slip my boots on, mumbling something about leaving the apartment to him for the night. I pull on my coat, wrapping a scarf around my neck in the process knowing the weathers are only getting colder.
I'll spend the evening with Jenny, I think, stepping out of the apartment, refusing to look back at Echo as I went. He'll never feel the same anyway, so why do I bother?
Practice can fix that.
I groan at my own thoughts, forcing my eyes away from my roommate, I look down at the notebook set in my lap. Tapping my pencil against my thigh I think; I think of everything and anything possible to help me form words on the blank sheet of paper.
After a while Echo moved, shuffling papers in the process and pulling my attention away from my blank notebook. I watch as he moves around the room, placing objects back in their respective spots. Placing my notebook and pencil on the coffee table, I stand, straightening out my skirt as I do so. Echo smiles in my direction upon hearing me move, and I cannot help but smile back. There is something about Echo that always causes me to smile, no matter how envious I am of his talent.
"What are you doing?" I ask, slightly hesitant of the answer to come. Echo stops his movements, holding the chalks in his hand instead of placing them back on their shelf. He looks over at me, an excited glint in his eye- something that honestly frightens me.
"Jordan finally agreed to dinner with me," he said around a grin. I bit my lip, looking away from him as my fingers play with the fraying hem of my jean skirt. I nod once before walking over to slip my boots on, mumbling something about leaving the apartment to him for the night. I pull on my coat, wrapping a scarf around my neck in the process knowing the weathers are only getting colder.
I'll spend the evening with Jenny, I think, stepping out of the apartment, refusing to look back at Echo as I went. He'll never feel the same anyway, so why do I bother?