The morning air outside the Art Faculty carried the faint scent of paint and turpentine, blending with the distant
hum of students making their way across campus.
Kevin stood quietly in front of his easel, his brush moving with
careful precision across the canvas.
"My name is Kevin," he murmured under his breath,
almost as if introducing himself to the painting rather than the world.
"An art student. On scholarship. And… I
guess someone who just really loves to paint."
He paused, stepping back slightly to examine his work.
The canvas held a sky in transition—a storm breaking apart to reveal light beneath it. It wasn't just a painting;
it was a feeling. Something personal. Something he didn't have the words to explain.
Getting into West bridge University hadn't been easy.
The scholarship meant everything. Without it, he wouldn't even be here.
And yet, despite all the pressure, this—standing here, painting—was the one place where everything felt right.
Today was important. Submission day.
He carefully packed the painting, making sure the edges were secure, and began walking toward his professor's
office, which—strangely enough—was located near the football field.
As he approached, the noise grew louder.
Shouts, laughter, the thud of a ball being kicked.
Kevin sighed. "Of all places…"