I walk down the path I crossed yesterday. I'm hopin' to find that scumbag thief.  He really doesn't need my art stuff. He doesn't.

My mind races with anxiety, I need that backpack back. Haha, backpack back. Anyways, back to the anxiety and fear.

I reach the point where I stopped running and see my backpack placed on the ground, as if it was never touched. A smile spreads across my face and I jog to it, happily. I check inside to make sure everything is there, but I find that the markers are missing. I don't use those much, anyways. There's a note, though.

I thoroughly read it over and my eyebrows scrunch, I'm flattered that he thinks my art is good, angry that he stole it, but also intrigued about this game.

I look through the pack searching for the sketchbook with a sword on it. I finally find it. My hand pulls the cover back to see the unfinished sketches I had done the other day. I move on to the next page and see a picture of a girl, which he told me is me, crying on the sidewalk in the distance. There are sad, dreary colors scribbled all around her, which, I'm assuming, is to give of a...sad, dreary atmosphere.

I feel artfully inspired by this thief thing that has happened, so I sit down and decide to fill the next page with a picture. I pull everything out and get to work.

***

I've been sittin' here for over an hour working on this picture, but I'm finally done. I look around, tryin' to decide where to put it for him to pick it up. I decide to put it fairly close to where he put it down for me to receive. I take my backpack, though. He has the markers to use. I get up and run off, hoping that another thief doesn't take our sketchbook.

'Our' sketchbook..ugh, I sound like an overprotective mother.