Black

XXXVIII

He gazed out the window at the sky above. It was dawn; the sun was only coming up. He always loved watching the sky at dawn with his mother. The blue sky that exploded with the different beautiful colors, and the soft clouds that looked like cotton candy.

The sun would wash the sky in a while with a pure golden color, scaring the darkness away and marking a new day. He couldn't tell if he was happy because the black curtain that hung over the world had finally faded, or sad that he was to live through another stupid day.

As he admired the sky more, he could only think of one thing: She would love to paint that.

He could picture her in Wiltshire, sitting on the green grass with a hundred papers around her because she would want to get it right, and in her perspective, she never did and never will, but her mother taught her to never give up. So she painted, not bothered by the paint she was getting all over herself because all she wanted was to capture the moment.

She would have her eyebrows furrowed as she bit down on her lips in concentration and frustration. And when the sun climbs the horizon, she would lay back on the grass in disappointment, but it wouldn't last long because the feeling of the soft grass caressing her cheeks would carry her away from the world. And the next day, at the same time, you would find her in the same place, pursuing her dream of picturing the colors that soothed her soul.

He left the window and walked over to the pillow placed on the bed, reaching into the pillowcase for the frame that held the picture that soothed his soul.

He let his finger glide over the spiderweb cracks that disturbed the glass covering the picture. He had cut himself a hundred times because of those cracks, yet he never stopped tracing his finger over their faces.

A lot of people wondered where she got her strong personality from, but he knew well from whom she got it from

Placing the frame back in its place, he pulled the hood over his face and exited the room.

As he opened the house door, he heard a cold voice from behind, making him stop abruptly.

"Where do you think you are going?" The voice sneered.

Without answering, he got out.

"Hey, boy!" The guy yelled from behind the closed door, but he proceeded walking anyway.

He didn't know where he was going, so he allowed his legs to guide him wherever they wanted. All he knew was that he couldn't stay in there and welcome his arrival.

~

*Black's POV*

I moved my finger along the lines that separated each tile from the other. I honestly had no idea what was I doing; I was bored. Even though I could use this time in solving some homework, or studying, but that seemed like it needed too much work.

"Well, hello there."

"Hey," I said, not needing to move my head in his direction to know who he was.

"Where were you yesterday? I couldn't find you anywhere." He walked a few steps, so he was standing in front of me, and I was looking down at his shoes. I scrunched my nose as a weird scent struck my senses. It must be coming from the cafeteria.

"I was lazy, so I just stayed in bed," I replied, earning a chuckle from him. Raising my head, I questioned, "What?"

"Black, if everyone stayed home when they were lazy to attend school, school buildings would be abandoned and empty for an eternity." I shrugged. "Well, anyway, I have to go. I'm sick of smelling like mangos," he said, pointing at his shirt. "And of being asked who peed on my shirt."