#269 Essence

by Karen Jones

The boss looked at the sketchbook on his desk. He turned it on its side, upside down, on its other side and then back to upright. He rubbed at the stubble on his chin and sighed.

“I don’t think you’re getting this, John.”

John smiled. “I had a feeling you were going to say that. People always say that, but I know what I’m doing. Trust me.”

“Trust you. You really feel you followed the brief here? That this,” he threw the sketchbook across the desk, “is what I asked for?”

John shifted from side to side. “I can explain, Sergeant.”

“Go ahead. I’d love to hear it.”

“Well, the blue represents eyes…”

“Ah, yes, I heard the witness say the man had blue eyes. You know what would have been nice? If you’d drawn eyes. A mouth would have been good—wide, she said. A nose maybe?” He held his hand up to stop John speaking. “Yes, red—she said his nose was red. Got it. And just as a bonus, if you had drawn a head to frame all of those features—white, yep, I see it—that would have been splendid.”

John looked at the floor. “She said vibrant, piercing, dancing, lively. I interpreted her words. I captured his essence.”

“Brilliant. If an essence ever commits a crime, you’ll be the very man to capture it and we’ll give you a call.”