London, Present Day:

Nothing is worse than having a blank mind. Not just having a blank mind, but having a blank mind while you clearly have something to do. It doesn’t just show that you don’t have ideas, but that you’re out of ideas! This was what Winter was thinking as she stared aimlessly at a blank canvas hoisted on an easel. The worst part was, she knew she used to have great ideas. Back when her mother was still around. But her mother, along with her ideas, had disappeared from her life.

She broke out of her blank, but distracted, mind to look at her surroundings, perhaps finding some inspiration there. Unfortunately, it only made her feel worse. As she looked around her classroom, all she could see were other art students filling their creative desires. With a stroke of a brush, a scribble of a pencil, or a combination of all, everyone had something, while Winter had nothing. Hell, even Kyle was drawing something. Kyle! Who everyone knew only took the class to get an easy mark. Kyle! Who at this point, will be getting a better one than Winter, even though she wanted to pursue this as a career. At least, that’s what she thought she wanted to pursue. She knew she had to try, but right as she lifted her brush to try to make something, anything really, the bell rang. Try again tomorrow she thought, same as yesterday.

Winter started packing when Mr. Ambrose called her name. “Winter! Can you see me before you go?”

“Uh oh.” Kyle teased as he walked out.

“Oh, shove it Kyle!” Winter yelled at him, conjuring a disgusted face.

“Hey!” Mr. Ambrose called at both of them. “Kyle, mind your business, Winter no need for that language.” Winter took off her completely clean apron and gathered her belongings. The apron was supposed to keep any paint off of her, but it was kind of useless since she wasn’t even able to put paint on a canvas today. The clothes she wore would have been paintless with or without the apron. Her outfit today consisted of her favorite acid washed blue jean jacket, black tee and matching jeans, and her favorite black combat boots. As much as she loved this outfit, she wouldn’t have minded getting paint on it, at least it would mean she actually painted something. She took the tie out of her hair that kept back her mane of curly black hair out of her face. As she put away her paint products, she noticed a dab of yellow was accidentally covering one of her fingers. The color sparked quite the contrast against her black skin. At least something got painted today, she thought as she wiped it off.

Winter gathered her belongings and then made, what felt like, the longest trek up to the front of the classroom. The trek always feels long when you don’t know why you’re being asked to stay later. Was she in trouble? Maybe it was something good? A deep pit grew in her stomach thinking of all the possibilities. As much as she liked playing dumb with her own mind, she knew exactly why she was being called upon. Mr. Ambrose leaned against his desk, waiting in his red wool sweater vest. A staple of Mr. Ambrose’s self-made uniform.

“Yes, Mr. Ambrose?” Winter played dumb.

“I don’t know how to start this, and I don’t mean to step on any toes or anything, but I was wondering how you were doing? Mentally that is?” Quite the abrupt question, Winter thought.

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“Fine, just fine. Everything’s really just fine,” Winter lied, a terrible lie at that, causing Mr. Ambrose to snort.

“I know some people that are ‘fine’ Winter,” He used air quotes when he said ‘fine.’ “But in my experience, when you mumble out that you are fine three times, it very rarely means you’re actually, ‘fine’.”

“In some cases, yes, but in my case-”

“How’s your project coming along?” Mr. Ambrose inquired, knowing damn well the answer. Winter went silent. It’s always terrible when you’re hurting inside, but you don’t want to show it.

“Not great. It’s a little hard finding my muse and really understanding the art. And then Brexit, like what’s going on with that, you know?” Winter said as she tried desperately to talk about anything not related to her feelings.

“I know you’ve had a rough year,” Mr. Ambrose began, as Winter avoided eye contact at all costs. “But I really would hate to see you give up. I know it’s hard.” Does he really though?

“I’m not sure if it’s actually that hard. Perhaps, I’m just not that good. Hell, even Kyle is better than me at this point.”

“Kyle will never be an artist. You on the other hand...” Mr. Ambrose stopped leaning and headed towards his desk drawers. He opened them and began scuffling through file folders.

“Eh it was a kid’s dream. Got to grow up you know. Be an accountant or something. Let the true talents paint the world.”

“Got it.” Mr. Ambrose pulled out a piece of thick card stock and handed it over to Winter. Winter gazed at it confused.

“Is this?” Winter eyed over the card stock. It was an elaborate colored pencil drawing of a female soldier staring toward the sunset. The type of drawing that made you look closer because you could swear it was a real photograph and not a drawing.

“I always keep a few select works from everyone I teach. Mementos just in case they become big. You know to sell them off later,” he joked. “I even kept one of Kyle’s. This was one of the first things you did when you started a few years ago.”

“Been wondering where this was,” Winter whispered.

“You have a gift Winter. An amazing one that you can’t lose to pain.” Mr. Ambrose encouraged. “Have you sent in the application to that Uni in Paris I told you about?” Winter couldn’t stop staring at her old artwork. How good she used to be. Back when things were simpler.

“Haven’t gotten to it just yet, but I will.” Winter backed away towards the door making her escape. “But I’ll get right on it! I swear it! Thank you for this! Really reminded me of what I can do” Winter said with a fake smile as she left. Mr. Ambrose smiled, thinking he had won. But as Winter headed toward the hall, her smile instantly faded.

She took a few steps forward, but had to stop and stare at her drawing. She could not believe she used to be this good. She remembered how long it took to finish it. The careful lines she made. How she went through so many different pencils trying to create the photorealistic color. She could not fathom how she could make a drawing this immaculate no, however. It was almost as if she was a different person, living in the same skin as before. But she could never be that person again. Winter continued her journey throughout the halls and found a nice rubbish bin as the new home for the drawing.

Winter continued on throughout her normal routine. Classes here and there, free period, then home. But today she would have her Wednesday tradition of a fencing class with her father. When the final bell rang, Winter passed through the same hallway where her art class was. As she passed the trash bin her drawing was in, she lingered in the hallway, staring at it. Perhaps the drawing was still there. Winter took a quick look around for any other students in the hall as she didn’t want to be seen going through a trash bin. The coast was clear so she dug in. In her mind’s eye, she found the drawing, looking even more beautiful than it already was. But to her dismay, as she got in the can she had found that someone had already emptied it and there was nothing but the black bin bag inside it. For the better, she thought. No need to dwell on the talented person she once was. Even though all she wanted was to become her old self again.