Kieran jolted up from bed. His hands firmly grasped his blanket. He turned his head to look at the clock. It was only a few minutes past midnight. He sighed.
I’m not gonna be able to sleep, at this rate, he thought.
He tore the blankets off and got out of his bed, putting his slippers on and grabbing a jacket. He opened the door from his bedroom to the hall, and wandered out into the studio. He grabbed his sketchbook off the counter. He glanced through the pages.
No good.
It’s all him.
He slumped against the counter, slowly looking over his drawings.
Why is it always him?
He tossed his sketchbook aside, stood up, and walked towards the storage closet. He flipped the light switch, and approached a group of canvases. He looked through them all. Over and over, it was the same thing.
Why…? It doesn’t make any sense. I’m not…
He stared at one of the canvases for a while.
I wasn’t like this, before.
He felt a surge, and lifted the canvas from the rack. He stormed into the studio and placed it on the easel. He stopped. His eyes were locked on it.
What am I doing?
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