Page 2 of Two Wrong Turns

It wasn’t until I got to the center of town that I started to see signs of life. I also came across my first stoplight. Maybe the only one.

A road crossed the path, putting me in the unfortunate situation of having to decide which way to go next. Thankfully, the people I’d spotted were headed towards a diner. It was the only place that had people moving and bustling about.

My stomach growled obnoxiously at the thought of food. I gave up the decision-making process for which direction to go as I parked in one of the available spots near the diner. Someone inside would surely know a place I could rent for the night.

As I climbed out, I took a deep breath. The fresh air boosted my spirits instantly. While I wasn’t an outdoors guy, I appreciated the beauty around me with an artist’s eye. This place wasbeautiful beyond anything I’d seen in the city. My fingers itched with the urge to grab up my sketchpad. It was buried in one of the many totes I’d used to secure my art supplies.

There will be time for that later. Maybe I could rent a place here for a few days while I reorient myself to a new destination.

A bell announced my arrival, while also drawing every eye in the place my way. I got a mixed sort of reaction from them; some smiles and others examined me like a mystery.

Ignoring the stares, I walked up to the counter. “Hi,” I said to the waitress who stood frozen across from me. Her eyes were wide and scared.

“Hello.” Her voice was whisper soft. It was a huge contrast to her appearance. Short black hair, tattoos for days over her arms and neck, and more piercings than I’d ever seen.

“Can I please get a menu? I’m starved.”

At my words, she jumped into action. The noise in the diner picked back up, though I had a feeling the conversations had shifted from whatever they’d been discussing before to figuring out who I was.

The waitress dropped a paper menu down on a table close to the long counter. It was one page long with only a few basic items. Luckily for me they had burgers and fries, which was exactly what I was craving. Nothing beats a hearty protein packed meal.

“Burger and fries, please. And a root beer for my drink. Do you have dessert?”

She pointed to a case along the back wall that I’d missed. It was filled wall to wall with pie. And not just regular pie. No, this piewas covered in thick whip cream. It was basically all I could see of the creations.

My mouth watered. “I’ll take two slices of pie too.”

“Any flavor in particular?”

I shrugged. “Surprise me. I’m not picky.”

She gave me a small smile, then went about putting together my order. I stayed facing forward since turning to look at the crowd might come across as antagonistic. Best to keep my curiosity to myself.

There was a napkin dispenser to my left, so I snatched a few to doodle on. I always kept a pen on me in case I felt inspired to get something down. For some strange reason, the atmosphere of this place had already unlocked weeks of creative block.

My pen flew across the napkin with practiced ease. I lost myself in the drawing while I waited on my food. It wasn’t until the plate set down in front of me and I jolted that I realized how long I’d gotten caught up.

It was also when I realized just what I’d drawn.

I groaned at the sight of the bear. The same damn bear I couldn’t seem to stop drawing.

It started a few months ago, popping up in various ways while I aimlessly worked. I had to force myself to stop drawing him, which, now that I thought about it, was probably what made the block happen.

Yet when I let my guard down and allowed my thoughts to flow, it’s exactly what I came back to. My work wasn’t in this style.I’d never even drawn animals. My work was more abstract and stylistic than the intricate detail before me.

“You drew this?” the waitress asked me.

I looked up at her, only to see a mix of awe and confusion in her expression.

“Yeah. I can’t seem to stop drawing it,” I replied.

“How long have you been drawing this?”

Her tone of voice made me pause. I didn’t know why my drawing caused such an intense reaction. Did she have a thing for bears? Did she want this particular piece?

Given it was on a napkin and not a canvas, I could easily hand it over. Though, a small part of me didn’t want to. It was the same issue I’d had before. If the bear showed up in my paintings, I wouldn’t allow them to be sold. I had a storage facility back in the city holding ten paintings that needed homes, but I couldn’t stand to part from.

Instead of answering her, I asked a question of my own. “What’s your name? You don’t have a tag on, and I don’t answer questions to strangers.”

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