She was into realism. In fact, she was into all kinds of art. But this was way beyond that. Scribble, and erase. Scribble, and erase. All she saw was his back, so she couldn't remember exactly how he looked like. Even so, she would nevertheless, relentlessly, try, and whenever her drawings clicked with her memory of him like the last piece of a puzzle, she would smile in gleeful delight.
Bingo.
YOU ARE READING
Sketches Of The Stars
Teen FictionAbout the girl who loved to draw, the boy who loved stars, and how it wasn't just as simple as that. A/n: Feel free to leave some comments, I love hearing from y'all! On a hiatus, but I can guarantee this for sure: The story will go on.
