Friday morning, there was coffee and cookies supplied. Don’t get too used to that, kids. The enthusiasm would probably wear off just a little as the term went on. The desks were arranged in a circle and on each one students would find an
A5 sketchpadAngela would be found sitting on one of the desks, facing them all. "So welcome to Art Therapy." She
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[[ feel free to ping off each other, I’ll be slow until I get out of work ]]
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"I'm Fawn Farrell," she offered, speaking as thought to the desk or her new sketchbook. "I'm going to be a freshman, and the last artistic thing I did, I guess, was playing my harmonica."
Yes, she skipped the random fact about you part, because she believe that anything interesting about her was best kept a secret, and beyond that, there wasn't much interesting at all.
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And wound up with the harmonica and drums because she was terrible at everything else.
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