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Description
     Weiss almost never had a good day, and today was no exception. He was coming home from the library with a bag full of books. There were a lot of them, and he had a hard time carrying the bag. The library wasn’t serving plastic bags anymore to “save the environment,” so it was a paper bag with no handles. He had to carry it from the underside, making him very unsteady, but he managed to stagger along. After a few minutes, he was nearly home.  He had just turned around the corner of the street, when a guy on a bicycle crashed right into him. The cyclist struck the bag of books Weiss was carrying just right, so that he and the books went flying into the grass.  The bicyclist got up quickly, and nervously asked Weiss if he was alright. Weiss waved him on, and the man pedaled away. Weiss lay there for a while. He didn’t really want to get up, he’d have to pick up the books, which were scattered across the yard. Instead, he just stared up at the clouds. It looked like rain…
     “Oh my god! Weiss!” A few minutes later, May Emerson ran across the lawn towards Weiss. She was his self-proclaimed girlfriend, and though he really liked her, her excessive energy wore him out on occasion.  She was waving her hands in front of his face. “Are you alright? What happened?” He sat up, and was promptly pushed back onto the ground by the girl. “No, no, you need to stay put, what if you’ve got internal injuries?” Weiss was sure he was fine, but he lay down again to humor her.  “Now, tell me what happened.” May was cradling his head in her arms, and examining him for injuries.
     “May, I think you’re overreacting a bit. I’m alright, just a bit scuffed up. I was hit by a guy on a bike, and I just… sort of decided to take a bit of a rest, that’s all.” May somehow managed to look surprised, relieved, and disappointed at the same time. Weiss got up and hugged her. “But… thanks for worrying about me. Help me round up these books, would you?”
     The two of them picked up the books and put them into the bag. After they were finished, they went to Weiss’s house. May immediately dug through his medicine cabinet, getting out first aid supplies and giving them to him.
“Look, May.” Weiss gently pulled her down onto the couch next to him. “I’m fine. Let’s just… unwind.”  He eased himself down onto his back, and May curled up next to him. They lay there for just a moment, then May bolted up. “Oh no,” she cried, “I totally forgot! Sorry Weiss, I’ve got to go. Important… things, you know. Things I have to do.” Before Weiss could say a word, May kissed him on the cheek and ran out the door.
     Weiss sighed. He was all alone… as usual. May, although very attached to him, was usually busy with something or other, and he didn’t get to see her much. He only wished he could be that active. As it was, he usually spent his days hanging around his house, using his computer, or playing games. His school had recently decided to go completely online, which was nice because he usually finished all of the week’s assignments in a single day of work. Unfortunately, this meant he had nothing to do for the rest of the week…  Weiss dozed off, having nothing else to do.
     A couple of hours later, he woke up, immediately regretting falling asleep on the couch. His neck was stiff and sore and on top of that, he was hungry. He got up and walked into his kitchen to get a snack. On his way back, he noticed something odd. It was the painting in his hallway that caught his attention. The painting was of a raven sitting on a branch, staring at the viewer. His parents had bought many strange paintings on their many travels, and this was their favorite. Weiss didn’t really like it, but he kept it up in their memory. They were killed by a madman who had just escaped from prison. At the time, Weiss was just twelve years old. Instead of going to an orphanage, he decided to live by himself, and it had worked out pretty well so far.
     Something about the painting struck him as odd today. The artist had painted the raven’s eyes so that they followed the viewer no matter what angle they looked at it from, a common illusion. At the moment, though, it seemed as if the raven tilted its head as he walked by it. He looked closely, and noticed that the normally thick brushstrokes of the painting had completely disappeared: it was as if he was looking at a photograph.  Something was very strange… He reached out, touched the painting, and immediately blacked out.

Description
     Weiss almost never had a good day, and today was no exception. He was coming home from the library with a bag full of books. There were a lot of them, and he had a hard time carrying the bag. The library wasn’t serving plastic bags anymore to “save the environment,” so it was a paper bag with no handles. He had to carry it from the underside, making him very unsteady, but he managed to stagger along. After a few minutes, he was nearly home.  He had just turned around the corner of the street, when a guy on a bicycle crashed right into him. The cyclist struck the bag of books Weiss was carrying just right, so that he and the books went flying into the grass.  The bicyclist got up quickly, and nervously asked Weiss if he was alright. Weiss waved him on, and the man pedaled away. Weiss lay there for a while. He didn’t really want to get up, he’d have to pick up the books, which were scattered across the yard. Instead, he just stared up at the clouds. It looked like rain…
     “Oh my god! Weiss!” A few minutes later, May Emerson ran across the lawn towards Weiss. She was his self-proclaimed girlfriend, and though he really liked her, her excessive energy wore him out on occasion.  She was waving her hands in front of his face. “Are you alright? What happened?” He sat up, and was promptly pushed back onto the ground by the girl. “No, no, you need to stay put, what if you’ve got internal injuries?” Weiss was sure he was fine, but he lay down again to humor her.  “Now, tell me what happened.” May was cradling his head in her arms, and examining him for injuries.
     “May, I think you’re overreacting a bit. I’m alright, just a bit scuffed up. I was hit by a guy on a bike, and I just… sort of decided to take a bit of a rest, that’s all.” May somehow managed to look surprised, relieved, and disappointed at the same time. Weiss got up and hugged her. “But… thanks for worrying about me. Help me round up these books, would you?”
     The two of them picked up the books and put them into the bag. After they were finished, they went to Weiss’s house. May immediately dug through his medicine cabinet, getting out first aid supplies and giving them to him.
“Look, May.” Weiss gently pulled her down onto the couch next to him. “I’m fine. Let’s just… unwind.”  He eased himself down onto his back, and May curled up next to him. They lay there for just a moment, then May bolted up. “Oh no,” she cried, “I totally forgot! Sorry Weiss, I’ve got to go. Important… things, you know. Things I have to do.” Before Weiss could say a word, May kissed him on the cheek and ran out the door.
     Weiss sighed. He was all alone… as usual. May, although very attached to him, was usually busy with something or other, and he didn’t get to see her much. He only wished he could be that active. As it was, he usually spent his days hanging around his house, using his computer, or playing games. His school had recently decided to go completely online, which was nice because he usually finished all of the week’s assignments in a single day of work. Unfortunately, this meant he had nothing to do for the rest of the week…  Weiss dozed off, having nothing else to do.
     A couple of hours later, he woke up, immediately regretting falling asleep on the couch. His neck was stiff and sore and on top of that, he was hungry. He got up and walked into his kitchen to get a snack. On his way back, he noticed something odd. It was the painting in his hallway that caught his attention. The painting was of a raven sitting on a branch, staring at the viewer. His parents had bought many strange paintings on their many travels, and this was their favorite. Weiss didn’t really like it, but he kept it up in their memory. They were killed by a madman who had just escaped from prison. At the time, Weiss was just twelve years old. Instead of going to an orphanage, he decided to live by himself, and it had worked out pretty well so far.
     Something about the painting struck him as odd today. The artist had painted the raven’s eyes so that they followed the viewer no matter what angle they looked at it from, a common illusion. At the moment, though, it seemed as if the raven tilted its head as he walked by it. He looked closely, and noticed that the normally thick brushstrokes of the painting had completely disappeared: it was as if he was looking at a photograph.  Something was very strange… He reached out, touched the painting, and immediately blacked out.