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One stroke, two-stroke, three-stroke. Her sketch was coming together with every stroke she made. Eyes shifted from the paper to the heritage furniture put before her in the National Museum. Nyra was sitting amid some people on a red cushion seat kept for the visitors to relish the history of the country. And one of the seats was occupied by this aspiring Interior Designer who was letting a piece of the history of her country inspire her work.
Yet, to eerie is human. Perfection can't be expected by a mortal soul. Regardless of the amount she continued to see her sketch, it didn't seem right. Today was her third day in this museum and still, she couldn't comprehend the flaw in her sketch.
"I think instead of three you should try to do it with two point perspective."
A profound voice reached her ears speaking with an accent. She lifted her head to look at the source of the voice and saw a foreigner. He wore a cap which hid his hair color and structure, with a red and black check sleeveless shrug and plain grey t-shirt underneath, which was stretching in his biceps, pairing up with ripped black jeans, white Converse, standing behind her and checking out her sketch.
Nyra stands immediately holding the sketchbook carefully shrouded. Not wanting him to see it.
The foreigner got to see her from head to toe once she stood before him. She was wearing a long loose traditional garment with jeans underneath. It caught his eyes how she combined the two different cultures into one. But she acted bashfully and he clearly understood her behavior but chose to speak again, "Your sketch is commendable, but I think you are very daring attempting three-point perspective but it isn't helping your sketch I guess."
She suddenly becomes nervous, not certain what to say or how to react. Her experience with strangers hasn't been a good one. The amount of times a stranger has asked her for the random address or direction she had ended up giving the wrong ones. Whenever a stranger tries to talk to her she feels like running away, and right now, she is willing to do the same.
The foreigner standing there feels the situation is filled with awkwardness, so he forwards his hand to clean the air, "Hello, My name is Kim Namjoon,"
She raises her eyebrows and realizes this foreigner is making her situation worse. Why is he talking to me?
"Umm.." she fidgets at her place, not sure what to say ahead, "I-Iam s-sorry,"
Namjoon thought he didn't hear her right, so he bends a little towards her with creases on his forward, "Hmm?"
She then strides backward little by little and scurries away. The man stands there is wondering, Did I scare her off? Then he notices her bag lying there and its owner running. Namjoon grabs the bag and walks towards her, shouting.
"Hello! Miss!"
Nyra hears the same voice again, she turns around to look at that man and sees him heading towards her, "Why is he following me?" she gets anxious and walks fast.
