I believed that painting skill was a gift. I told him that it was hard to teach someone with no gift in art to paint.
But he insisted. And with that smile drawn on his face, I couldn't resist.
Anytime soon, I found ourselves, in the library, in the bleacher by the football field, in the park, or in my room, painting.
YOU ARE READING
He Left Me Alone
Teen FictionHis name was Logan McHale. And i didn't know why he left me alone. Short Story #171 (06/28/2014)