"Do you want me to draw you?"

  That was the first thing she said. Her ringing voice burst into the soft silence of the coffee shop. So high and joyful, full of true childish spontaneity.

  What should I treat this beautiful guest with? Coffee is not the best drink for a child. But… just a little, just for the aroma and color. The rest is sweet, viscous syrup and milk. All of it topped with a lush cap of cream. And, of course, cherries — a large bowl of the sweetest berries, so juicy and ripe that their color had become almost anthracite.

  Now let's return to my guest's question.

  "No, child. Not now. To draw me well, you need to study a little."

  I don't usually talk to guests. My job is to offer coffee. But this occasion is special…

  The little girl pouted as expected, but then immediately turned her attention to the sweet treat.

  "Mom didn’t like it when I drew either. Or rather, she liked it at first, but then she stopped. Mom is so fickle.

  My mother kept my first drawings in the most visible place. They hung in frames in the living room. Almost the entire wall was covered with them. Mother bragged to everyone that I would be a great artist when I grew up.

  It took me several days to complete my first big work — almost a week. But Mom didn’t hang it on the wall with the others. And then my pencils disappeared from my room. I was so sad.

  What did I draw? Our dog Lucky. She turned out so cheerful, with her mouth wide open in a smile, her big paws, and her long tail. I drew a stick next to her, and even her kennel, so she wouldn’t get bored.

  I called her to look at my portrait. But Lucky hid from me. Mom said that Lucky went to visit her friends. I think Mom lied. Who goes to visit their friends and takes their kennel with them? I didn’t find it in the yard. Lucky probably decided to go somewhere else. I hope she’s better off there.

  I also really loved drawing flowers. They were all over my room. It’s a pity I can’t reach the ceiling yet — otherwise, I’d draw there too.

  Mom would get sad when I showed her another flower. Sometimes I even saw her crying in her little greenhouse in the backyard. For some reason, her flowers stopped growing. I looked in… there weren’t even any pots left.

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  Mom stopped growing flowers. Now she spent more time with me. She took me to see uncles and aunts in white coats. And then to other uncles and aunts who talked to me about all sorts of things.

  I always said that I loved to draw, and they all smiled at me. Then they asked me to draw something for them. Mom turned pale. She tried to say something, but they calmed her down. Some even asked her to wait outside the door.

  And I drew. At first, just whatever came into my head: shells, flowers, snowflakes. In one aunt’s office there was a very large aquarium. Inside were fish, like little rainbows — all multicolored: pink, yellow, green, blue. And there were so many pencils on the table! I managed to draw all the fish, and the aquarium for them took up the whole sheet of paper.

  We didn’t go to that aunt anymore. I asked Mom to take me back to see the fish, but she just pursed her lips.

  Visits to various doctors became more frequent and lasted longer. And now, before I started drawing, I had to put on a funny little cap with multicolored wires.

  And also… my mother stopped hiding pencils from me at home. I don’t care what I draw with — I just like pencils the most. But I can also use crayons, paints, or even a stick in the sand.

  Now my mother bought me any pencils and albums I wanted. But she always took them out of my room at night and only allowed me to draw when she was nearby, watching. And she forbade me to draw people.

  I hadn’t really thought about it. Flowers, fish — that was fine. But people? I had never drawn people before, and I really wanted to try. But I didn’t want Mom to scold me. I promised. So I drew a portrait of the baby next door in my room. The stork had just brought him, and the neighbor always pushed him in a beautiful white stroller. I drew the baby in the stroller, with my finger on the window, and then erased it right away so no one would notice.

  Many police cars came to our street. The policemen and policewomen talked to Mom for a long time. The neighbor lady was crying and screaming loudly in the street. Her baby in the white stroller was missing. Someone had stolen it, stroller and all. The police were unable to find it.

  And then my mother hit me. I didn’t understand. I was so scared. And then my mother fell to her knees in front of me, hugged me, and started crying — just like the woman whose child had gone missing.

  And I thought that I needed to please my mother with something. She went to the kitchen, took a headache pill, and called someone — probably the new doctor with the funny caps and wires. I’ll make it in time.

  I already know that Mom hides my pencils in her desk and locks the drawer with a key. She says it’s so burglars won’t steal them. And the key is in the box on the bookcase. Mom thinks I don’t know, but I saw her put it there.

  And the paper? A white napkin will do. The main thing is to please Mom. So I drew her portrait: my beloved mommy, and behind her our house. And Mom had a wide smile on her face.

  I put down my pencils and looked up. The walls of our house had disappeared. The table was standing outside. And my mother was nowhere to be seen. She must have gone looking for where the walls had gone.

  But she’s been gone for so long. Lady, where is my mother?"

  The little one put down her spoon and looked up at me with tear-filled eyes. She is one of the few guests for whom I break the rules.

  "Let’s go, my dear. I know who will teach you to draw even better."

  The little girl jumps up from the table and trustingly grabs my hand. It would be a sin to leave such talent unpolished...