Conversations From Afar

11 / art

LEGS WIDE OPEN by adulate_ #stopslutshaming

&also bam new character hahaa
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I'm sitting on a bench, waiting for Sierra because we're supposed to be going to the couples yoga she signed us up for. (She's fascinated by couples yoga, single, and all of her other friends are scared of/offended by being mistaken as lesbians, so of course I'm going with her.) I'm not even sure if this is a non-pregnant couples yoga.

I recross my legs for the thirtieth time. There's a boy on the bench across from me, scribbling in a notebook. I'm kind of excited to hang out with her, though; we were roommates last year and I kind of miss her antics.

He keeps looking up (at me?) then back down at his paper.

He's wearing a grey hoodie and very skinny black jeans. I admire his boots (almost mustard-coloured suede) until they start moving.

He's walking toward me.

"You're art." He says, making brief eye contact, dropping a thick sheet of paper in my lap, and walking around the corner.

I alternate between staring at the corner he disappeared around, and looking at the drawing.

I think it's "pen and ink", very shadowed and filled with lines going this way and that. It's my face in hollows and shadows, my slouching-inward shoulders, my hooded raincoat. I look weighed down and waiting. (But who for?)

Written across the bottom is you are art, and an illegible signature.

"Hey, I'm here!" Sierra careens around the same corner artist boy disappeared behind. "I thought I forgot my yoga pants, so I had to go back."