Sweet Epiphany

Chapter Forty-Four: Serendipity

          I wish Zach could be more readable sometimes.

          Removing my grey cardigan, I take a quick glance around the room. It isn't messy at the least, but it could certainly use some cleaning.

          "Well, go ahead and do what you want." Zach says, gesturing forward.

"Okay." I reply perkily, accepting his invitation as I scoot towards the desk beside the window, automatically tidying the mountain of scattered pencils and crumpled papers. The arrangement was like a desk that was used by an artistic genius, and I suppose that description isn't too far off.

          I hear Zach walk into his room and I continue to busy myself. Collecting the blunt pencils, I place them neatly into the pencil holder, being careful not to brush an accidental stroke on any of the papers. Based on the way they are crinkled, they look like trash that are meant to be thrown out, but they only resemble unfinished masterpieces to me.

          One by one I reluctantly toss the paper balls into the bin beside me, mentally calculating the amount of time that must have been spent on each of these drawings. I can't even draw a bird, let alone any of these striking imagery.

          Halfway into cleaning, I start to stack the papers that appear to be wanted. It is a combination of loosely drawn human figures and unshaded portraits that already bear much realism. I brush my fingers pass one of the completed ones, appreciating the sheer beauty of the amazingly accurate details. I'd take it for a monochromatic photo if I didn't know any better.

          I eventually put it away and lay my hands on the one beneath it, only to feel my heart skip one too many beats as I feel myself holding my breath. My eyes widen and my fingers turn numb from a combination of overwhelming shock and surprise. Overwhelming might even be an understatement.

          I stare intently at the portrait before me, at loss for words. Beginning from the fine eyelashes of her shining eyes to every strand of her tousled wavy hair, from her small celestial nose to the faint cracks on her lips as they curve into a smile, there isn't a thing about it that I could change.

          I feel as if I'm looking into a mirror. It is too similar for me to not be able to recognize her.

          He drew a portrait of me.

          Clasping a hand over my mouth, I set it down gently, fearing that my inexperienced touch might ruin the work of art. My heart is on the rim of bursting out of my chest as I confuse between beaming like an idiot to shedding a tear.

          He made me look beautiful.

          I swallow nervously, debating with myself if I should pretend to not see it, or if I should mention this, but what am I supposed to say?

          I hear footsteps approaching and I turn to face him, behaving more alert than I had planned. My hand is still held over my mouth when our eyes meet, and I realize I still haven't decided what to do or how to react yet.

          Think fast. Think fast.

          He takes a quick glance at me without saying a word, and I understand immediately that he knows. He must've forgotten about it himself.

          "So...you saw it." He clears his throat, remaining as calm as usual, but there is something different about his tone. It isn't as stoic as before.

          I nod vigorously, a reaction made on impulse. He releases a sigh. It wasn't a depressing sigh or a sigh of relief, it felt more like a sigh of content, as if he is glad. I'd find it strange, but I'm stuck in this state of surprise to feel that.