Sitting at my desk in silence besides the soothing sound of graphite on paper, I hear a soft knock at my door. 

"Andrew, it's late, you need to go to sleep," Mother lulls. 
“I took a nap earlier.  I’m not tired.”  I hear her sigh and change my mind.  “Actually, I was just getting ready to go to bed.  I just need to finish this drawing.”
“Okay, just remember we are going to visit Grandma at 10.”

“Yeah.”  I shut my light off long enough to hear the sound of her slippers tap down the stairs.  Tonight I am drawing a child sleeping in exquisite detail.  I am nowhere near done. 

A few hours later, I finish.  Smoothly opening my binder, I slip it in with the rest and return the binder to it’s resting place.  Standing up, I stretch out.  I glance at the clock.  11:24 PM.  Thankfully I don’t have school tomorrow, but I do have to visit grandma, which will take some willpower.  I know just what I need to stay awake. 

I pull on my NWU hoodie and tennis shoes, grab my wallet, and give my hair a quick tousle with my hands.  Looking in the mirror, I sigh.  I look like I just finished crying.  I pull out concealer and dab it under my eyes until I look approachable.  Satisfied, I pop open my window and jump out. 
All of the houses down the street are dark besides Mr. Jefferson’s.  Mr. Jefferson is a funny character.  All the kids around the block laugh at him because he seems nocturnal.  I used to be one of those kids. 
Walking up to Miller’s General, I catch Tilly closing up.  The bell above the door signals my arrival and she looks up smiling. 
“Andrew! It must be Saturday.” She yawns.  “With finals coming up I haven’t gotten much sleep lately.  Go ahead and grab what you need, you’re the last one that will come in here anyway.”  I walk down the aisles, paying attention to all the items even though I know where everything is.  Miller’s never changes much.  Finally I reach the gum section and I grab two packs of 99 cent MintyFresh spearmint gum.  I take a bottle of headache reliever, a yellow tin of clearance hair gel, and my signature cologne. 

“Whattya have planned tomorrow?” Tilly inquires.  I glance at her and she raises an eyebrow. 

“Grandma’s.”

“Ah.”  I walk up to her and she rings my essentials up into the old cash register.

“Roger never will get a new register, will he,” I ask as she pushes extra hard on the 5 button. 

“Nope, too much of a tightwad.  Look around.  The cash register is the least of his worries.”  Tilly smirks. 
I guess she’s right.  The tile is ripped up around the creaky bathroom door, Orangey-Sun made a stain on the wall, and years of tobacco smoke are trapped in the ceiling.  

“$7.50.”  I pull out the money habitually and slap it on the counter.

While I resituate my brown paper back in my arms and step outside, she calls out.

“Hey!” I spin around and catch her eye. 

“Yeah?”  In that moment she looked so tired.  All of her sarcasm was drained, and pure Tilly was left. 
She looks so close to finally confronting me, I start to bolt.  I don’t want anybody to know.  That’s why I never fully close my window, buy all of this stuff every night, and have binders full of artwork.  Tilly is the one that has ever thought about why I need so much headache reliever and spearmint gum.  She slipped a therapy pamphlet in my bag one night and I didn’t find it until the next morning. 

Her eyes slide to the floor and she puts her hands in her pockets. 

“Have fun.”  I rein all of my energy up and throw it into a smile before I leave.  Once I leave, I collapse by a big oak tree.  I throw my fists against it over and over again cursing Karma and try to will myself to sleep until the sun finally teases me.