Jul 23, 2018
@petitemarierose
Once again, there she was, sat in the back corner of Cafe Etoile and scribbling away in the little notebook he saw her with every night she came to visit. He could practically see the graphite staining the palm of her hand. A humble man would have wondered about what she was doodling, but all Arturo could think of were her drawings of himself at his piano, and hoped there would be a new one to join them. Curiosity got the best of him, and he sauntered over to the little table, the loud jazz that filled the bar allowed him to sneak on up and grab a seat beside her.
“Who are we capturing tonight, chiquitita?”