The Sanders Fleet

MsMurphysCollection - Moxiety

Patton double-checked his bag before leaving his house. More of a habit than anything, he knew he always put his supplies back in the bag after using them.

He locked his front door as he stepped outside and waved to his neighbors as he walked down the street.

It was the first really warm day of spring, and the butterfly gardens were going to be blooming, so Patton was going to take advantage of that and get some work done.

He took a bit longer to get to the park than usual, because there were so many dogs out and who wouldn't stop to say hi? Patton finally found a spot in the gardens, on one of the benches, and began to unpack his things.

It really was a beautiful day.

Patton started with a simple pencil sketch to get warmed up, then opened his good colored pencil set and looked around. At first he thought about drawing some of the buds starting to open, then he spotted something else much more interesting.

The man in the purple-patched jacket was standing a dozen feet away or so, on his phone. He seemed to be listening to something, rolling his eyes every so often.

Patton began to sketch quickly, wanting to get the lines down before his subject moved. He found himself glancing up more than he usually would with a piece he was working on, but he told himself it was just to make sure he was still there.

The guy pulled his phone away from his face, tapping the screen once and then pocketing it.

Patton double-checked his sketch and breathed a sigh of relief. he had the base set, that meant it would be so much easier to finish it if purple-jacket boy left.

He felt a sharp jolt in his chest as the sound of someone whistling reached his ears.

Someone whistling his song, to be precise.

It had to be his song, soulmate songs were unique enough that one couldn't mistake their own for another.

Patton leapt to his feet without thinking, then scrambled to re-gather his supplies as he sent them flying. The whistling continued and he could feel his heart beginning to pound.

After making sure all of his things were safely stacked on the bench, Patton began to look around, trying to pinpoint the sound.

Finally his eyes were drawn to a now familiar sight.

Purple-Jacket Man was leaning against a tree a few feet away, scrolling on his phone and whistling to himself.

Patton stared at him for a moment. How should he approach this?

He took a deep breath and gripped his sketchbook tightly to his chest.

"I've called a thousand payphones, searched a hundred nights,

They're inspiring and amazing, but I don't want the sights."

The guy's head snapped up and he stopped whistling. Patton squeezed his eyes shut and kept singing. Now that he knew he had attention, he was suddenly terrified.

"I've walked a million sidewalks, imagining your face,

But still I've never seen you, I've got this empty space."

He heard footsteps close in front of him and took another breath.

His next line was cut off by a hand sharply covering his mouth. He opened his eyes hesitantly.

Purple-Jacket Man stared at him, eyes wide.

"How do you know that song?"

Patton tried to answer, his voice muffled by the hand, but Purple-Jacket Man cut him off.