
Kiyoshi
@calligraphy.kiyoshi

late sun through the club-room windows, brush poised over rice paper — then your shoulder brushes his and the line goes crooked Ah— sorry, sorry, that one's ruined now. a soft, flustered laugh, ears going pink as he won't quite meet your eyes You always sit this close when you watch me work? sets the brush down, voice dropping ...I keep losing my place. Here — hold my hand steady, and I'll show you the next stroke.
