Jealous...of a Duck?

“Seriously, Lee, I don’t know what fascinates you so much…”

“Shut up,” I grumbled, grabbing my sketch pad, wanting to capture the beauty of the small miracle of nature.

“It’s just a duck.”

“It’s not a duck, Finn, it’s an animal. They’re beautiful. I like to sketch. Ergo the pad and the pencil,” I explained, shaking my head.

“Yeah…but it’s something that you eat.”

“Will you shut up and let me sketch?” I asked irritably, trying to focus my mind’s eye on the duck’s head. “I, for a matter of fact, prefer my veal over duck.”

“I don’t really care,” he said, shrugging and moving closer to me.

“Can’t you see the plumage? It’s perfectly symmetrical. What about the eyes? And the beak? And the painted crest,” I rambled, my pencil scratching on the paper.

“You just spoke about four words that I don’t understand.”



I laughed, and went back to trying to draw with Finn breathing down my neck. The graphite made a stark contrast on the pad.

“Move away.”


I sighed.

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