Caleb stepped into the classroom and looked around at the walls with a mixture of different posters and colours... were they in kindergarten or something? ...Then again, compared to their teacher, they might as well still be wetting the bed.

Taking a seat next to the wall, he opened his sketchbook to a clean page and began to gently sketch a scene into the paper with his pencil. It would occupy him until the rest of his classmates arrived and they began.

It was forming almost of its own accord... a grey sky, and a hillside path worn by many feet over the years. Several teenagers were some way along the path, and the whole picture was somehow hazy, like a dream, like the perspective came from someone half-asleep. Caleb found himself smirking at it. It was only a small sketch, but he could already see it in its entirety. Maybe because he was sketching what he had seen.