Rio De Janeiro, Brazil. May 7th, 2008. (I hate this twink)

Sunny. Hot. Breezy. Just like any other day. Except you were forced out of your room for once. All you ever did in your free time was study, draw or paint. Painting was your main hobby.

Sitting on the beach with your canvas and watercolors resting on the beach towel nearby, you looked around for something to paint. Some inspiration. A fat artist’s block was a pain in the butt as of right now.

Looking up at the sky, noticing only very few and faint boring clouds, a kite flew by in the corner of your eye. A little inspiration for once!

Grabbing your canvas and a paintbrush, dipping it into the wet paint, you were about begin painting when the reference kite fell down at you feet. Huh, weird.

Putting said canvas and paintbrush back down, you began to inspect the kite. There was a large tear in the fabric. A seagull flew by, looking like any other normal seagull would. Though, the weird feeling that that seagull did the damage to the kite lingered in the pit of your stomach. How rude!

Just when you were about to pick it up, the shuffling of sprinting feet on sandals against hot sand grew louder. A boy stood beside you in your sitting position, looking nervous. He was very, very quiet. Like he was contemplating whether or not to say something.