Process Diary

Aug 31 2012

Everyone on campus hated Jane because she couldn’t draw. Or more than that because drawing wasn’t the only thing she couldn’t do. Jane couldn’t paint or sculpt or sew or design or photograph. What are you doing in a fine arts school Jane? You don’t belong here. Lugging around that process diary like as though something’s in it. Fucking idiot.

John, a digital media prodigy and local hunk, saw something else in Jane. Something different, special. He started hanging around where he knew she’d be, like where she sat alone to eat her lunch with only the pointless process diary for company. For the longest time he pretended not to see her, he just made sure she always saw him. At first she was uncertain, then she was flattered, then embarrassed, then angry, and finally silent.

One afternoon as he was sitting at her bus stop enjoying a takeaway coffee she actually managed to come up and speak to him. “Are you spying on me?” she asked.

He looked her straight in the eye. “Oh, it’s you. And you’ve got your diary with you. Can I have a look?” She seemed uncertain, but he smiled, and she smiled back. “Oh, it’s nothing really,” she said, and handed it to him shyly. He opened the cover. and a black hole sucked him in

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