He looks just like his brother, same delicate eyes, same crooked nose, same hesitant smile. Quiet. Unsure. Only he was the one who had to try harder. He wasn't what his brother was. His solitude was born from a beauty of the unsatisfied. Too big, too unspoken,too unique. In a society today that strives for individuality, it condemns those who achieve it. He lumbers toward me, polite and with purpose. "Excuse me," a husky voice implies. He reaches past me, sharpens his pencil, the point still dull when he is finished.
I've studied his academic past in his classes and I've graded his papers, each problem done to perfection. Yet not one ounce of real enthusiasm ever crosses his face. There's something more to him that I must discover.
**At this point he had noticed me staring at him and writing, so I had to stop before he asked me to explain...how can one explain that without sounding potentially creepy?
That's all I have for today, but I will keep this updated with my new writing exercises! Always remember, keep writing!
Now I'm interested in trying to make him enthusiastic...
ReplyDeleteHaha, I predicted you would take this post as a challenge.
ReplyDelete