The shy girl ran the steps of the school. Her mother would be angry with her for not returning home immediately, however she had left her satchel in the arts room, and it was the only thing she allowed herself to possess, having anything else would be rude to her mother. She sprinted into the arts room, grabbed her satchel, filled with paints, a sketchbook, and her prized journal in which she kept her deepest, truest thoughts. She was about to leave when horror struck her; for her beloved painting that she dreamed about months before painting it was turned around. Someone had looked at it. She screamed. Nobody should have looked upon it. It was a stupid thing anyway, she only drew it because it was all she could draw. It was in her head 24/7, she couldn't scare it away. She picked up a nearby chair. She had enough of the stupid painting, it was ruining her life. She smashed it with the chair, destoyimg her art. As it splintered, she flew into the empty space it had been, and suddenly she felt she was falling. And she landed on soft grass. She just laid there, staring at the sky, speechless. She did not stand until someone called her.