Midnight Line

Slid both hands under the hexagonal barrel of a chunky graphite pencil stub resting right in the seam of an open sketchbook. No stomping tonight—my soles called an official truce after that sidewalk marathon! I braced my sneakers against the thick spiral binding and gave that smooth cedar wood a steady, two-handed roll across the heavy cream paper. Skrrrrt. The soft lead laid down a bold, velvety black arc that curved right around my feet like a custom stage mark. I dropped into a cross-legged seat right inside the loop, propped an elbow on the wood barrel, and soaked in the warm desk lamp glare. First official drawing session locked in, totally freehand!