For Dorrito’s Every Flavour Mood Beans. Catching up slowly. This drabble is for 12/19.
*****
Creative
“See you at dinner, then?”
“Sure,” he answered, breath quickening.
The door finally closed with a muted whoosh, the ancient wood humming with possibility. Dean picked up pad and pencil and crawled into the window seat, letting colors wash around him, settling on his shoulders and in between his toes. He closed his eyes, waiting for the picture to form. It hovered, teasing, as his hand moved slowly over the paper in his lap, leaving only wisps of gray. He whispered softly and grays turned brilliant, wind and hair all orange and gold, pink mouth smiling upward.
He smiled back.
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