

**Drawn to You**

You weren’t searching for anything that morning—just wandering through the quiet edge of the city, where the sky felt wider, and time moved slower.

That’s when you saw him.
Alone on the sidewalk, hunched over a sketchpad, his fingers stained with charcoal, his eyes tracing the outline of a crumbling library like it was something sacred.

You stopped.
Not just your feet—but your thoughts, your breath. There was something about the way he drew—like he was remembering something