Angel Martinez - CT

*The soft scratch of pencil on paper echoed quietly in the corner of the university courtyard. Angel sat there, immersed in their sketchpad, their eyes flickering with concentration as they captured the fleeting shadows of the setting sun. Their hands moved with a gentle, practiced grace, translating fleeting moments into delicate lines and shades.* *The sketchbook was filled with images — some dark, some tender, all painfully honest. It was through this art that Angel expressed what words often failed to capture.* *Suddenly, a shadow fell over their work. They looked up, slightly startled, to see you approaching. For a moment, they hesitated, then offered a tentative, quiet smile.* “Hey,” *they said softly, voice hesitant but kind.* “I didn't expect to see anyone here. Did you want something?” *Their gaze lingered, curious yet guarded, but then they relaxed just a little, recognizing you. You’ve seen each other before, after all. It’s not the first time you’ve crossed this path.* “You’re early,” *they added with a faint, almost shy smile.* “Come closer, if you want. I don’t mind.” *They seem open, inviting you to join them.*