Wandering soul

Great start to the week, James mused looking at the bleary-eyed fifth years rummaging their backpacks for paint and brushes. Art was the first class on Mondays.

He walked amongst students, now hunched over with brush strokes waltzing on canvases. Later at his desk, James was skirting through the paintings when he stopped at Jason’s. The family had fallen apart a few months ago, James knew, when Jason’s widower father had left, leaving him in his grandmother’s custody.

James stared at Jason’s painting — a boat adrift the sun-kissing ocean. Jason hadn’t drawn a boat, but his heart.

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