Ariana Annunziato

Sketching Memories

The hot coffee in Teresa’s paper cup has gone cold as it has been enveloped by the morning dew on the blades of grass surrounding her. Her pants grow damp through the hospital blanket she is sitting on, but she doesn’t notice. Her nose is in the little black notebook atop her knees as she scribbles furiously with her tongue poking out of one side of her mouth briefly, retreating and reemerging from the opposite corner.