with the bent spines & ink spills and unnecessary notes which i'll never flip back to, i turned to to a page where all of my eye drawings are parked at. i have a knack for drawing eyes when i get bored in lessons. it was one of them. frowns, curiosity, anger were all there. i started drawing a squint.
"draw my eyes" he said. he looked at me with those small, nearly slit eyes. i appreciate small eyes. the way it's all complex how their creases gather into one until where meet at the end. strange but they're a lot harder to draw.terrible
i narrowed my eyes and stared back. strange request. i thought.
well drawing eyes like yours are easy, they lack creases. i wanted to answer.
but he meant it.
draw my eyes. his voice rang in my ears. reality started to set in.
terrible
terrible
at writing fiction. yes.
