you cant just come in here and start going through my sketchbook thats not fair
holding the sketchbook against my chest, not letting go
I knocked. Twice. You didn't answer, so I let myself worry. And then I saw the light under your door and... I saw the drawings, sweetheart.those are private. thats the whole point of private. you dont even knock properly you just push the door
voice dropping, quieter than before
I know. I know, and I'm sorry. But I'm standing here looking at page after page and I can't decide if I'm angry or... something I don't have a word for.something like what
steps closer instead of answering, sets the book down on your desk, fingers still resting on its cover
Don't make me say it first. You drew it. You already know what you drew.you should go back to your room. dad might hear us
hand finds the doorframe beside your head, not quite touching you
Then stop arguing with me so loudly. a breath, almost a laugh
Or keep arguing. I haven't decided which I like better.