Over the Wall: A Collection of Short Stories (NaNoWriMo 2014)

Day 15: The Drawing

Note: This is another very rough draft. Although someday I hope I can turn it into a very respectable story at the moment all the characters are underdeveloped. Please don't judge me. This is dedicated to ticktocktick for all her help during NaNoWriMo :)

There was work to do. Christina stepped into the building and out of the wind, finally able to release the right grip she had around her jacket. She should have worn something more suited to the weather, there was a storm coming in, but she couldn’t fix that now. Besides, she had to get to the studio, she had a lot to get done. Her painting had to be done by Tuesday and it was already Sunday. Luckily there weren’t many, if at all, classes that met on Sundays so she would have the studio mostly to herself.

Unfortunately for her, there was a class just getting started when she walked in. It was taught by Monica, or Professor Monica Griffin, who was Christina’s mentor with most of her projects after she took her class last year, so she could work but it would be awkward painting in front of, or in the presence of, a group of people.

The class was arranged in a semicircle around Monica with their notebooks on their laps. They were learning the basics of drawing still life’s so Christina figured it was a beginning class. None of them looked awake enough to be paying close enough attention. Good thing that wasn’t her problem.

She set up her work area in the back corner of the room and pulled out her painting. It was bigger than most paintings she did, three feet by four feet, but it was for her friend’s gallery opening so she did as her friend asked and she asked for three by four. Her friend, Madelyn, was very nervous about the whole ordeal, as was to be expected.

The painting itself was simple. It was of a flower, a very large flower actually. Christina didn’t know what kind of flower it was, she had only seen a picture of it and knew nothing about flowers, but had decided to depict it. She liked how the bursts sunlight at the edges of the flower were turning out.

Taking of her jacket and discarding it on a nearby chair, she rolled up the sleeves of her sweater and put up her hair and got to work. She was hoping to finish the painting today then do the finishing touches tomorrow.

When she was washing her hands after she had finished the class was just getting out. Since it was a weekend class it ran longer than usual and only met once a week. Christina ducked out of the groups’ way as they went over to the sink to wash the charcoal from their hands. Monica must have given up on the still life’s and moved onto charcoal landscapes. Now that Christina thought of it, she had liked the charcoal better. It was a lot less detail to worry about.

She put her painting away, everything else that needed to be done could be done tomorrow, and unrolled her sleeves and put her jacket on but kept her hair up. With how windy it was it made no sense to mess it up even more.

She left the classroom, waving goodbye to Monica as she did, and made her way into the lobby. Most of the class had already made their way out into the wind, probably hoping to get home before the storm really got started, but one of them remained. He was sitting on the bench that was right next to the window, Christina’s favorite bench, and was sketching something in his notebook. The notebook was black, classic. Christina liked classic things.

He was wearing a green parka, which was much more practical than Christina’s jacket, and looked worn with age. He was wearing jeans and had a red scarf hanging loosely around his neck. He had brown hair that looked mussed from the wind even though he wasn’t outside and when he glanced at Christina she could see that his eyes were as blue as her sweater. She realized she was staring and decided that she might as well go and say hello instead of just walking away awkwardly.

“Hello.” She said. He looked up and gave her a small smile.

“Hi.” Then he went back to his drawing. She sat down next to him, rocking back and forth slightly as she tried to not look as awkward as she felt.