60
~Velma’s POV
I sat back, smiling to myself. The drawing wasn’t just a face. It was life captured in graphite, a whisper of time and memory frozen in a moment. My heart felt full, and I realized that today, my birthday, wasn’t just about gifts or flowers or cakes, it was about this. The ability to create, to pour pieces of my soul onto a page, to feel alive and seen, all at once.
The old man’s eyes seemed to stare back at me now, and I couldn’t help but imagine him nodding in approval, as if saying, well done, Velma. Well done.
I had no idea Dylan was behind me, just watching as I added the final strokes to the old man’s face. The pencil hovered above the page, shading his cheekbones, and then… a clap.
“You’ve outdone yourself, Velma,” he said softly, almost in awe.
I jumped a litt
