He shuffled through a stack of sketch books until he reached a specific one. They were all labeled with some arcane labeling system, a letter and number code that I knew was associated with a spreadsheet on his computer. He was meticulous with his labeling of each drawing.
Jon ripped one of the pages from the sketch book, tearing gently along the perforations. He handed it to me, and I gasped.
It was a waist-up sketch of me during one of my track events, running through the ribbon. My first time getting first place, if my memory served me. I had a look of exultation on my face, somehow serenely excited.
He had captured me accurately, with sweat caking the hair to my face, and he had even included the big freckle under my right eye, not smoothing over my blemishes at all. Yet, he had mad
