9AM

“Gracie, have you got everything?” my mother shouted from the kitchen.

“Yep. Gotta go, love you, bye,” I barked back.

The cold bitter air enveloped me as we left the house to make our way to the bus stop. I gripped onto my little brother’s hand tightly before he had a chance to take off running without me, as he routinely does every Monday.

“8:45,” I muttered while looking at my watch. “That gives us just enough time. Come on Kai pick up the pace!”

Kai came to a halt and hung his head staring intently at the gravel.

“What’s wrong Kai?” I squatted down to see his face, and his tears began to fall.

“I hate my shoes Gracie, all the other kids pick on me in the playground,” he blubbered. Gracie wiped his tears and pulled him in for a hug.

“They’re just bullies Kai, there’s nothing wrong with your shoes, but if it makes you feel better, I’ll get you some really nice ones for Christmas next week, okay?

Kai’s face lit up and he sniffled holding back his tears. As I turned around, I saw the bus' headlights rounding the corner so I hurriedly picked up Kai and ran to the empty bus stop. Luckily, the bus driver saw us coming and waited for us.

“Thank you,” I gasped while climbing on board. We quickly paid for our tickets as I nervously checked my watch. 8:55. “Looks like I’m going to be late again today,” I sighed as we sat down.

-

After exchanging hello’s and goodbyes with Kai and my old kindergarten teachers, I caught the next bus to Sheffield train station. I pulled my scarf up to my nose to calm the burning sensation from the freezing air. The wait for the train was 5 minutes longer than I expected which quickly increased my anxiety levels as I knew I would miss the start of my 9AM lecture. As I sat down and got comfortable for the half an hour journey, I noticed an elderly man wearing a bright yellow coat dozing off to sleep on the seat adjacent to me. I pulled out my little black A5 sketchbook to do a quick drawing of him to help calm my nerves and pass the time. I furiously scribbled pencil marks to block out the overall gesture before the man switched his position again. When I looked back up at the man, he was now looking back at me and my sketchbook.

“May I take a look?” he asked.

“Oh, um sure but it’s not finished yet,” I laughed nervously while handing over the book.

The man’s eyes creased as he looked at the sketch and he smoothed his hand over the page.

“Is this a Moleskine?” he asked.

My eyes lit up. I was always happy to engage in conversations about my art supplies.

“Yes, it is. It used to belong to my father.”

“Is your father this good of an artist?”

“He was...,” I grew quiet.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he smiled at me and quietly handed my sketchbook back. There was a long pause and I fumbled with the keyring on my student ID card awkwardly.

“Well, you’re an exceptionally good artist, and I don’t say that just because of your handsome subject,” he laughed. “My late wife was an artist too. I am on my way to visit her now... If you know what I mean.”

“Sorry to hear that,” I whispered.

“No worries kid, where are you off to on this chilly morning?”

“Uni, I got a 9AM, if it was up to me, I’d still be in bed.”

“9AM!? It’s 9:20, you’re awfully late.” he stated.

“Yeah, it’s no big deal, I’m at least thirty minutes late everyday so this is normal for me.”

“Why is that?”

“I have to do a school run for my little brother first before catching the train to uni. My dad used to do it but you know.”

“Ah I see. And what is it you’re studying?”

“Marine Biology although I really did want to study art, but my mum was concerned about me finding a stable job”

“Ah yes, the old starving artist myth I’m guessing,” he chuckled.

“Yep, that’s the one,” I replied.

“Would you mind sending me that sketch? I would even be happy to buy it from you. It might be a nice way to kick off your art career.”

“Sure, I don’t mind, no need to pay though it’s a gift. Do you have an e-mail or an address you want it sending to once I’m done?”

“Yes, that would be great. I’ll write my address in the book for you,” he answered.

I handed my sketchbook back to the man as the voice over the intercom announced that the train was pulling into the stop before mine. He fixed his cap and zipped up his coat before saying goodbye and leaving the train. Once outside he waved at me before disappearing inside the train station.

I still had 10 minutes left before reaching my stop so I opened my sketchbook to add some of the final details to my sketch. As I opened it, a folded note dropped onto my lap. The note read ‘Please follow your dreams’ and another slip of paper dropped out of the folded note. I screamed and quickly looked around the carriage for cameras. I thought I must be getting pranked. I stared at the cheque that had £20,000 written on it and I began to cry. I desperately searched my sketchbook for the man’s address but I couldn’t find it. On the reverse of the note read ‘Don’t worry, it’s a gift.’ I laughed to myself and silently thanked the man as I got ready to get off the train.