Draw With Me
In a place where colors swirl with the air, and pieces of light fall like snow, a boy with dog ears stood on one side of the endless glass wall. The smoothness of the glass was felt by the boy, day after day, as he gazed on its other side, alone.
One day, as he gazed at the other side, he found a girl with cat ears gazing alone at his side of the glass. He went to this pretty young girl, and began talking.
"How are you? What's your name?" he asked.
She raised her hand to her ear, signaling she couldn't hear him. The boy repeated himself, yelling, but she still couldn't hear. He then remembered he had a few pieces of black chalk in his pocket.
He wrote on the glass: "Can--"
He scratched it out, forgetting he would have to write backwards.
"Can you write?"
He threw the other piece of chalk over the wall of glass, and the girl picked it up. "Of course. Duh."
He smiled excitedly.
"How about drawing?" he asked, drawing a small charactiture of his face.
"Yes." she wrote, drawing herself in a cute pose with large breasts.
The boy flinched, and blushed.
"You don't even look like that." he wrote, drawing her torso, and writing the word "flat" next to it.
The girl flinched as if offended, but kept writing to him, and drawing with him. By the time night fell, they could hardly see one another's faces on account of the many drawings they made. After the girl drew her last line, she looked up at the boy, and smiled. The boy stared back, and she blushed. He put his hand up to the glass, and the girl put hers over his, but he frowned.
"It feels cold." he said, longing to feel her warmth. "I want to be with you."
"You are with me. Only there's a glass between us."
The boy, impatient with the barrier between the two of them, stood, and began to punch at the glass with all his might. The girl stood as well, trying to yell for him to stop, but the glass began to crack. He motioned for her to move out of the way, and with a few good blows, the glass shattered where his fist landed. However, this wall was unbreakable, and the glass came back with amazing speed to reform, cutting and slicing its way through the boy's hand and wrist. The next day, the boy returned, his right hand in a tight bandage and splint.
"Are you o.k.?" the girl wrote.
He nodded.
"Wanna draw?" she asked, drawing a smiley face next to the words.
The boy bowed his head, and with his left hand, he wrote sloppily: "I can't anymore."
The boy was right handed. He lost his right hand to be with her. He could no longer draw. The conversation was cut short that day, and as the boy returned the next day, the girl was sitting there, waiting for him.
A package was waiting for him on his side of the wall, with the words: "For you." He sat in front of the package, and the girl smiled brightly. Opening the package, the boy was so shocked, he tipped it on its side. The girl was left handed, and with that hand, she picked up her chalk.
"Draw with me."
Inside the box, her right hand rested on the ground, where the boy had knocked it over.