In silence, the class sketched, and his form grew on each page. His arms sloped to his thighs. His ribs formed a pattern of shadow, light, shadow across his skin.
 
My fingers twitched by my side. I licked my lips. I noticed her. They stared. And they drew. They crossed their legs, they shaded, they pulled me apart. Their eyes lingered here, on this line, on a flicker of light, on an illuminated tendon. I pictured their mothers, I imagined braiding their hair. I fell onto my breath. I answered their questions. They stared. And they drew. Their eyes closed, watered, whispered. They streaked their faces with charcoal. I imagined them circling a fire. I wanted them to sing. They stared. And they stared. And they drew. And I noticed her.
 
In silence, the class sketched, and they pulled his body onto their papers. His lips curved downward. His knees trembled and his hairs stood on end as if to breathe.
 
I said to her, please, who am I, please, I will trust the motions of your hands, please, show me myself and I will love you blindly.

They stared. And they drew.