PERFECT CANVAS ━━━ luke patterson.

vi. park conversations

I SPENT about an hour trying to find where I lived from Julie's last night, and when I eventually did find my complex I found that I was only ten minutes away. I could've saved fifty minutes if it weren't for those ghosts not knowing where Julie lived.

Today I woke up with aching feet, but that didn't stop me from packing my sketchbook in my bag and heading to the park.

I pick at the dried up paint on my jeans (that for some reason just doesn't want come out no matter how many times I wash them) as I walk to the park, and once I get there I find-to no surprise-that it's empty.

Being at the park so early in the day always felt nice. There was more to see, it is much more vibrant with the sun shining instead of the only light being the street-lamps scattered around.

I inspect the park bench I was at last time before I get comfortable, thankful to see there is no trace of any spiders, and drop my backpack filled with my things beside me.

Taking a deep breath, I take advantage of the calmness right now seeing that my past few days have been anything but that.

With these newfound ghosts in my life it just makes everything more confusing.

I'm still trying to figure out how I can see the three of them, and when I figure out how then I want to move on to why I'm the only person, to my knowledge, who can touch them as well.

I don't know Julie's story, so I have no idea as to why she could possibly see them. Maybe she's lost someone in her life too.

So it's nice to escape from my reality, and into my own world only involving my pencil, paper, and the park surrounding me.

Finally landing on an empty page, I just draw random things all over the page in hopes an idea will suddenly come to me. Though I nearly fall off of the bench when I hear someone start talking from next to me.

"Hey," I jump from where I'm seated with my sketchbook almost falling off of my lap. Looking up to the voice I notice it's none other than the last person I wanted to see. There goes having a ghost-free day.

"I need to get you a bell if you're going to keep coming out of nowhere." I tell him as I recover from the scare. He just throws me an apologetic smile, and takes a seat next to me. Help yourself, I guess.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Luke clears his throat. "I actually came here to talk about yesterday."

"What about yesterday?" I question, even though I have an idea on what he wants the conversation to be.

He gives me a look telling me that I am, in fact, correct in my assumption. "You know . . . the song you were writing. From what I heard the lyrics were pretty good." He says, causing all my hopes that he wouldn't bring it up to go down the drain. "I never knew you are such a lyricist."

Sighing, I close my sketchbook and look right up at him. I notice how he is now standing up from where he was seated next to me, and looking at me expectantly. Someone get's excited over music.

"Because I'm not. Those are just old songs." I answer him, and take a second before saying anything more. "And you also need to learn not to snoop because yesterday was not meant for anyone but myself. You and the boys shouldn't be coming into my apartment unannounced anyways."

"Yeah, yeah. Got it." He assures, though I'm sure the words won't mean anything. So I settle on giving him an unbelieving look.

Clearing his throat he continues on what he was saying. "Listen I gotta know, did you write all those songs in there?" He asks, and I take a sharp breath in.