DRAFT: This module has unpublished changes.

For a moment, I was alone. 

“Found it!" John exclaimed from the other side of the room.

John paced profoundly out of the office.  I followed him.  The fifth eighties song of the day was playing on the cafeteria overhead stereo.  We walked back to the detention office, told the proctor that we had done our job, and the detention session was over. 

John and I walked through the halls to the biggest lobby.  He was expecting a ride from his Mom, me from my Dad.  He slid against one pole down to the ground, his jacket partially sticking to the top of the column, until he adjusted it, so that he seemed comfortable.  I was about to sit down across from him until he beckoned me over to his side.  He opened up his Adidas backpack and took out a notebook with the cover of a bird sitting on a branch, looking up to the clouds. 

“Is that a diary?”  I asked.

“Nope, it’s my sketchbook,” he said.  “Do you want to see it?

I nodded, and he handed me his sketchbook.  I put it in my lap and flipped through it.  There were pictures of things like animals and landscapes, but there were also drawings of arbitrary things, like chairs, and stereos.  I made my way through about ten pages, until I asked him:

“What motivates you to draw like you do?”  I asked.

‘It’s something I’m good at.  I also like writing, so sometimes I draw what I write, or write what I draw.  I think one of the most important things in life is beauty, and I like expressing myself through it.” 

He stood up and bundled his scarf against him, put his gloves on, and took my hand.  I started laughing.

“Where are we going?”  I asked.

“Where aren’t we going?” he asked.  He led me out of the lobby, and into the outdoors.  The sun was framed by branches of oak trees that reached out on either side of the patio.  There were birds flying and squirrels pacing across the cement.  The yellow and green grass framed the squares we were standing on.  It felt like magic, and the moment was beautiful. 

The wind threw itself against me and him, so that I was blinded for a moment, until he brushed my hair out of my eyes. 

“This,” he said, “This could be considered beautiful.”

DRAFT: This module has unpublished changes.