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Aias’ P.O.V

Oftentimes, when I looked upon Kalem, all I was able to envision was a larger version of those buzzing creatures that surrounded his beloved flowers. Bees, they were called. Yes, I looked at Kalem at times like this– where he was excitedly popping from spot to spot, dressed in yellow from head to toe, and all I saw was a very large bee.

“A-And then, Lincoln opened the doors, and there were even more of the pretty paintings, and they were everywhere!” Kalem exclaims, his eyes like glowing lanterns illuminated by joy. “They were from like five hundred years ago, so they were ‘expressions of the artists’ experiences’.”

“Is that so?” I question, and Kalem nods his head quickly.