He nudges me with one elbow, playfully. Then, he bends over and gets to work. He starts with broad, sweeping strokes across the paper. His hand moves confidently, and he doesn’t once stop to erase or correct anything, as far as I can tell. I also can’t tell what it’s supposed to be yet. I lean over, trying to get a better view. Fuck it—grasping the bottom of my chair, I scoot the whole thing in toward him. He doesn’t take his eyes off what he’s doing, but the corner of his mouth pulls up in a smile.
