Because he’d slept most of the afternoon, and into the evening, Ryan wasn’t tired. He was antsy, though. He wanted, no, he needed to draw. It was almost a compulsion. He figured Miss Gina must have paper and some pencils in her office, so he went looking for her. She wasn’t in the parlor, but one of the other lodgers said he’d seen her going out back. Ryan found her sitting on the porch, reading. When he told her what he wanted, she was on her feet seconds later.
“I’ve got computer paper, if that will work,” she said as she led the way to her office. “And more pencils than I know what to do with.”
“They would be perfect.”
Over his protests, she insisted he take half a ream of the paper, telling him he could return what he hadn’t used once he got sketchpads. Thanking her, he returned to
