anartistandabutcher

[anartistandabutcher]

There was nothing Zayn Malik liked more than being a silent observer as the world slowly and curiously passed him by.

And for him there was no better place to do that than sat on his favourite bench, mere meters from the banks of Lake Brookmount, surrounded by the beauty of Innisling Park and comforted in the knowledge that he was back in his hometown of Latwater.

So that’s where he found himself on this beautiful Spring day, the daylight slowly fading as the sun began to set against a lightly clouded sky, late afternoon burgeoning on a crisp evening.

In that particular moment however, it wasn’t the majestic sunset or the parade of people enjoying the last gasp of daylight that held Zayn’s interest. No, as had become customary for him lately, his eyes were trained solely on a model sailboat, as it cut a path through the choppy waters of the lake, propelled by a typically strong breeze.

Zayn loved that sailboat.

Zayn hated that sailboat.

And no matter how confounding his feelings towards it, or how much he sometimes wished he’d never taken it, there was one thing than remained constant—his love of sketching it.

[anartistandabutcher]