Mute (M.C.)

t h r e e

Watching Leslie struggle through art class was by far amusing. Drawing a perfect circle kept her back from advancing in the class. Her hair was sectioned up into a half bun and her for head smeared in charcoal. Gaze heavy on her canvas she colored in once more with charcoal and stepped away.
Leslie looked around as usual for approval. Her eyes landed on me for a moment and we met eyes. She nudges her head to her canvas and I walk over.
"I know you can't speak and you're a stalker but no one else really takes this class seriously." Her eyes wander over to the art teacher who sat at her desk fiddling with clay. "Any advise?"
In the middle of the canvas as a tree that stood alone. There was a larger tree near it with its spine curving away from the lone tree. Other trees were in the distance but they didn't look like the center one. As if the tree was planted carelessly and it was stunted in growth.
"It's terrible. I know." She takes it off the easel and puts it on the ground.
I grab it from ground and ease it against one of the legs. I look at her and hold up a hand for her to wait. I found a piece of paper and grabbed her piece of charcoal writing out, 'It's breath taking.'
Turning away she began to work on something new, the corners of her lips tugged upwards.
My first encounter with Leslie and my breath left my body.