“After Christmas . . . I don’t know what happened. Or, I’m not sure how it happened. But suddenly, for the first time in six years, I started—” “Writing,” I finish the sentence for him. His eyes widen slightly, but he keeps himself in check. It is beneath the great Joe Graves to show emotions. I nod, feeling even more depressed than I was before. “I started sketching after I saw you. For the first time, also.”
