60_Foothold

Eloise

The city was quiet tonight. Even the usual hum of traffic beyond my window felt muted, as though the world itself was catching its breath. In the hush of my small apartment, I sat cross-legged on the carpet, pencil scratching against sketch paper illuminated by my single brass table lamp.

Max lay curled under his dinosaur-print blanket, his small chest rising and falling in even rhythm. I watched him sleep for a long while before returning to my lines and curves, shading ...