She sat cross-legged on small stone wall, near rusting bike racks that looked like as if they hadn’t been used in years. Of course they hadn’t, bikes have long become a thing of the past, only used by professional athletes. Her hair, cut a standard chin length framed her near angelic face. She squinted up against the sun, imprinting the image of the cathedral in her mind.

With smooth strokes she began sketching the massive steeple, loosing herself in the graphite lines. She didn’t notice the person approaching her amid the other pedestrians and countless drunkards.

As a harsh grip shook her out of her dreamlike state, she dropped her pencil and looked up towards the policeman.

“What do you think you’re doing? You’re disturbing the peace and breaking Public C Act.”

He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her towards the police cruiser.

“If I’m disturbing the peace, what the are those drunks doing?”

“You know damn well. I’m confiscating your weapons. You damn artists. Almost as bad as the writers.”