Roland woke up an hour later to the sound of a pencil on paper. He took his time to let his vision adjust to the dimly lit room.
When he regained his regular sight, he squinted at the corner by the door. Harper was sitting cross-legged on the floor, sketchpad on her lap while holding the pencil in her right hand. She was concentrating intently on what she was doing, and Roland couldn’t take his eyes off her.
Her hair was pulled up in a messy bun on top of her head. Harper had placed a pen in the middle of that bun. Her other hand held her phone above her head; the flashlight turned on, providing light.
Roland didn’t want to ruin her moment, but the lighting inside his room wouldn’t do her eyes well. Clapping his hands twice, Harper gasped.
“Oh, shoot!” Harper exclaimed. She killed her phone’s light and dropped it beside her. “Did I wake you?”
Roland got up, sitting on the edge of his bed. The headache was gone.
But now, he was starving.
“Have you eaten dinner?”
