Sunday morning. I love Sunday mornings. The routine has become fixed now. After working continuously for six days of the week, Sunday morning was what I looked up to the most. I ordered my coffee and sat outside on the walk.
I love to sketch. But my busy work schedule does not allow me to and therefore I sketch every Sunday morning. Sitting on exactly this bench. Sipping the same coffee. Wearing the same t and shorts. I have my sketching pad spread in front of me with my two pencils and charcoal.
I forgot to tell you. I sketch the same thing too.
It’s just a face. I don’t know how to explain. Ever since I began sketching, I drew the cross for facial reference and sketched a face. I don’t know why but the sketch was perfect! Exactly how I wanted to sketch. Exactly what I wanted to. It was like my hands knew what my heart wanted. After the initial sketching of just the face passed away, I started experimenting with expressions.
I sketched her every Sunday. Sometimes just a smile. Sometimes blushing. Sometimes I sketched her playing with her hair. Her hands passing through her hair. But the sketch was always confined to her face. It had her tiny hands. Or her comb.
Hey! I thought as some hand pushed at my elbow and the current sketch was almost ruined. I turned to look at the person and was in for the surprise of my life.
“I just came last night. I am residing at my sisters.”, said the face I have been sketching so long.