Linseed

Morning

The light reflected off of his eyes. The room was achingly dark and empty. Of course it was. It was too early to even be thinking of deadlines. He should be thinking about eating instead, remembering how he'd rushed out of his apartment in hopes of catching his professor before class started. It was irritating that he had arrived before her. So instead of walking to the nearest McDonalds and getting himself a well-deserved McGriddle, his stubbornness won out and he stayed waiting by the studio for a good while until the janitor took pity on him and unlocked the door.

So there he was. Sitting in front of an easel in his professor's art studio at 6:30 in the morning, waiting for someone to come by and disrupt the white silence of the room.

He stared out the window for a good few minutes, watching as the sky began to light up. The sun stayed hidden behind a thick veil of white clouds that cast a gloom over the city. The room began to brighten and he pulled out his sketchbook. It was tattered and smudges of fingerprints were easily spotted on the cover and corners of it. He weighed it in his hands, liking how comfortable and easy it felt, compared to first buying it and disliking how stiff the pages and cover were.

He set it on his knee and began drawing with his charcoal pencils. He loved the way his pencils scratched against the paper and the lead rubbed against his fingers, leaving them black. He didn't realise how much time had passed by until the door opened and he looked up. His professor strolled in, with a coffee in hand and a gym bag resting on her shoulder. Her eyes flickered towards him, then did a double-take. "Paul, what're you doing here? And who the hell let you in?" Her lips turned down at her words. Paul tucked his hair behind his ear. "I was waiting for you, professor, but you weren't here so the janitor let me in."

Her frown deepened even more. "Why would you do that?" She said dumbly. Paul's face twitched with irritation. "You said you had something to tell me." He said through gritted teeth. She tapped her long red-painted fingernail against her chin. "Did I...?" Paul gritted his teeth and slowly breathed in through his nose. "Yes," He all but seethed. The professor continued walking and took out a ring of keys from her pocket, picking one and using it to unlock the door to her office. Paul followed after her and watched as she set the bag down next to her desk.

The room was full of papers taped to the walls, partially covering colorful posters for past art exhibitions. There were large rolled up papers stuffed in corners and a waist-high bookcase on the left side of her desk with books that looked to be untouched for a while now. Her trash basket was full of coffee cups and NutriGrain wrappers.

She leaned against the front of her desk and took a sip of her coffee, staring up at the ceiling in thought. "Let's see...what was it I needed to tell you...?" She mulled, stopping to take another drink. Paul folded his arms and drummed his fingers impatiently. He felt he was being toyed with.

"Oh, I remember now." She put the cup onto the desk and pushed herself off the desk. "You remember your piece from the gallery up in Shale? Someone wants to buy it from you." Paul looks at her, taken aback. He wasn't used to this. People didn't buy his art...no one ever did. He felt something rise from his stomach and settle into his chest. Yes, it was pride.

He smothered a giddy smile. "How much is he offering?" The professor shrugged. "I told him I'd give you his contact information and then you two would figure out a price," She walked behind her desk and pulled out a slip of paper from the top drawer, "Don't sell yourself short. You can put a price tag on art, but talent is priceless. I'd say based on time spent on it and the equipment used, don't go below $90." She hands him the paper and steps back behind her desk.

Paul opens it. A name, email, and phone number in messy chicken scratch. He tucks it into his pocket. "Thank you, professor." He made a move to leave. "You're a good student, Paul, with lots of promise. Don't forget that." Paul looked at her. She was maybe in her late to mid-fifties, with frizzy brown and graying hair. She wore a faded button-up denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and black jeans. Paul wondered if she'd been told the same thing when she was in college.

Paul nodded and walked out of her office then the studio. The clock on the wall read 7:38 and his first class didn't start until 8:30...yes, he'd get breakfast. He exited the building and walked to a nearby cafe. A bell rang when he pushed open the door. Someone behind the counter called a greeting out to him, a girl with combed back golden hair, thick black glasses, and turquoise cheek piercings. He walked to the counter and looked up at the menu written on a chalkboard. "Welcome to Brew It! What can I get you?"

"Just a black coffee and the avocado BLT." The girl--her name tag read "Hero" on it--punched his order into the register, looking up at him and giving him a smile. He paid and took a seat. The cafe was fairly big, lots of small round tables and chairs set up. The walls were made of dark brown bricks and the ceiling was some sleek black material with some plain light fixtures hanging from it.

Paul pulled out his sketchbook again while he waited for his order and set it down in front of him. He looked out the window at the few people who were awake and walking at this ungodly hour. A tall girl with feathery lavender colored hair and Middle Eastern features came up to his table and set his coffee and sandwich down in front of him, giving him a small nod then walking back behind the counter and disappearing into the kitchen.

Paul picked up his coffee, took a sip, then nearly spit it out as his eyes widened. Of course he comes here, he thought to himself. The bell rang again and in walked a flurry of curly green-teal dyed hair bordering over the line of unruly. Those brown eyes dragged across the length of the room and slowly landed on Paul. Of course, Paul thought as he maintained eye-contact with the man across the room.

He thought nothing could ruin his mood...he'd just gotten great news concerning his work...he thought he'd be able to keep it up at least for another 20 minutes...Of course his rival had to appear right as he was about to enjoy a tasty breakfast that he damn well deserved. Paul pushed aside his jealousy and stared out the window, bringing his coffee back up to his lips and taking a sip from it. Everything in the cafe turned into white noise as Paul stared out the window. He quickly checked his phone for the time. 7:57 a.m. He still had time before his first class. He took one last bite from his sandwich and flicked the crumbs from off the tips of his fingers.

There was shuffling that brought Paul back into the space around him. He jumped when he saw Faust Arcangelo sitting across from him, calmly eating a Danish. He didn't know what to do...should he just leave? He made a move to leave. Faust's eyes flickered up and pinned Paul back to his seat. He wiped a crumb off his face and smiled at him from across the table. God, he hated that smile..."Good morning to you too."