"Wait, really?" I ask the odd old man.
"Yes, that is why I reserved this room for you" he says. This is crazy.
"This is amazing. Thanks you Dr. Fitz- Alfred" he chuckles and walks over to me.
"This was made for you, Allison. You belong here" he chuckles and walks out of the room. "I'm starting another piece if you wish to join me" he leaves the room. I smile at my new studio, placing my things around the large room. I decide to make a list of things I need.
1.) wall paintbrushes
2.) way more paint
3.) bulletin board
I decide to paint something on my wall, the first piece of me in my art studio. I carry my arm across the white wall, making a slight arch, not knowing what to do, but letting my hand carry the black paint across the unmarked wall.
I stand away from the wall, noticing a familiar tattoo of a boy I love. I smile as I add the other tattoos of sparrows above the larger, intricate butterfly I painted straight from memory.
Once the two birds are finished, I paint the letters where the collar bone would be, the letters "A-team" coming from my brush. I look at my artwork on my wall, and smile to myself. I quickly pull up a picture and check the tattoos, making sure they are perfect, and yet, my hand never faltered from the memory of the tattoos.
"Simply amazing Allison" dr. Fitz applauds from behind me. "Exactly from memory. Just incredible" he smiles.
"I didn't know you were in here" I tell him nervously. He chuckles and takes my paintbrush to the sink and washes it out for me.
"Yes. I've been in here the entire thirty minutes." He smiles again. Thirty minutes? "I know what you're thinking, it didn't feel like thirty minutes. Time flies when sleep never comes. The unrestful mind focuses on what it wants, not what it needs. We might need sleep, but our free souls speak otherwise." He chuckles. "Come on Allison, let your mind rest and go try to sleep. It will come to you soon and I don't like you driving home sluggish" almost right on queue, I yawn, feeling sleep invade my thoughts. I smile at him and nod my head.
I take one last look at my new studio, taking it all in.
The old man waits in his pajamas, a painted on Tshirt and plaid pants. He has slippers on his feet, paint stains on those as well. He walks next to me and places his arm around me. He walks me to my car and stops.
"It's funny isn't it?" he chuckles to himself.
"What's that?" I ask him.
"How an empty mind can easily entertain itself with images our souls never knew we remembered. Goodnight Allison." He turns and walks away before I could answer.
I make it home by 3:00 am, and quietly get myself ready for bed, feeling sleep start to overtake my senses. I slide into bed and remember my note, looking for it, only to see it on Harry's bedside table. He pulls me close to his body.
"How was it?" he softly whispers with his eyes closed.
"Better than I ever would have imagined" I tell him. I feel him press a sleepy kiss on my head as I drift off into sleep with my professor's words stuck in my head.
I wake up to an empty bed, and a full mind. I look at my phone and realize. Tomorrow's my birthday. Shit.