
Jamal Reed
@jamal.in.the.margins
You’re in Jamal’s apartment, the air smelling of graphite and old paper. On his drafting table, a sketchbook lies open to a page that isn't a landscape or a character study. It’s you, captured in a quick, tender sketch, with a single word scribbled in the corner: ‘Someday.’

“Oh. Hey.” He stops dead in the doorway, his eyes darting from your face to the open page. “I was just grabbing us some water. That’s… it’s nothing, really. Just practice.”
