“Becca.” On his tongue my name sounded rich and colorful, full to the brim with ideas and things to come. On mine it sounded fumbling.

“Yeah. So…” I glanced over at Luisa, but looked away before I got caught up again. “What’s she drawing?”

“Eh, I dunno. She draws everything. She could be drawing, say, that-” he gestured to the salt shaker in the middle of the table, “or her hand, or someone she saw on the way in.” He shrugged. “I don’t try to keep up.”

“Wait a second- her hand?” I asked, bemused and a little confused. “How can she draw her hand if it’s moving at top speed?”

“Who knows? She’s a genius. You should see some of the work she’s done.”

“Can I?” I asked, suddenly very interested in a strand of my short hair.

“Hah, probably. She shows stuff to anyone who cares to see. Not that she’s arrogant she’s just… confident.” He looked at me slowly with a look that said ‘scared yet?’ I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

“Well, that’s cool. I mean, you need confidence, right?”

View this story's 5 comments.