The next few days were not too different from each other.
Every morning I woke up late and never got to see Jacob before he left for work. When I was left to myself, I either spent half of the day lying on my bed letting my thoughts consume me as I stared into space and, when I got tired of that, I would succumb to the sweet promises of a TV screen. The other half of my day, however, was much less dreadful. It involved me drawing something new on my sketch pad.
As innocent as drawing might sound to anyone else, it wasn't the case here. My drawings had become different. Something had noticeably changed. It would start when I picked up my pencil.
Usually, I would have an idea or picture floating in some part of my mind waiting to be expressed through strokes against blank paper. Usually
