A quick, downward slash formed the aquiline nose with the slight bump on the bridge. The pad of Graham’s thumb smeared the black dust into the shape of the shadow between his lover’s dark eye and slender brow. His pinky formed the soft mounds of the thin lips, and the point of the pencil etched the contrastingly sharp chin. Just then, a wisp of ebony hair fell from behind Alan’s ear, the ends lodging in the corner of his mouth. When Graham set his sketchbook beside him in the arid autumn grass and reached out to brush the strand back, the other man didn’t notice. Alan continued to stare down at the book he read, with a gaze that looked like it could alight the crumbling pages. Alan, with his creamy skin and striking dark hair and eyes, was beautiful, but his intensity, bordering on obsession, frightened Graham sometimes. “What are you reading?” Graham asked, resuming the study of his lover. He had to repeat the question twice more before Alan lifted and turned his head.
