Novelas y relatos de Levi Ackerman Drawings

I try to convey my annoyance, but my voice comes out slower than I intended. A sense of doom hangs above my head, clogging my throat, stinging my nose, and making it really difficult not to feel the cold climbing up my legs. I flip ahead. The old drawings are clear now. Time has not washed everything away. The colors are still dull, as if they have died decades or centuries ago…but the rough edges of the drawing have survived. “ It’s— ” “ It’s Levian’s mate. ” The open diary, the small secret, slips from my hands and drops on the floor with a thud.

I said, rubbing the back of my neck, "I mentioned I’d show you some more of my drawings the next time we ran into each other." Leonard’s eyes moved from my face down to the heavy paper cover. He didn't say anything, but he reached out and flipped the book open. His long fingers turned the pages slowly, his eyes tracking the dark pencil lines of various structures and facial studies. He stopped on a page near the middle. It was a detailed sketch of an old man sitting alone on a wooden park bench. A folded newspaper sat on his lap, completely untouched, and his eyes were wide, staring intensely at something far past everything directly in front of him.

Leo arrived soon after, bouncing into the room with his usual energy, carrying a small stack of drawings. “Mama! Papa! Look at what I made!” he exclaimed. I knelt to examine the pictures, boats, castles, suns, and small stick figures holding hands. My chest warmed at the sight. “They’re beautiful, Leo. You’ve done a wonderful job.”