You scroll faster.
At the bottom, in small, shaking handwriting:
"You still have time. Draw one line. I'll be there." Free-Download-Kirtu-Comics-Pdf.pdf
Kirtu is older now. Older than you. Gray at the temples. Standing in a room full of filing cabinets. Each drawer is labeled with a year. 2012. 2013. 2014. He's pulling out a folder marked "Projected Self."
Page ten. Blank.
The balloon is full now. Overflowing. Letters spilling down the margin like a scream.
No, not blank. White. White like fresh paper. White like the first page of a sketchbook you never opened. You scroll faster
The younger you is smiling.
Page seven. Kirtu is standing at the foot of your bed. Not in the comic. In the photograph. The art and the photo are bleeding together now—Kirtu's drawn hand reaching out of the frame, five penciled fingers pressing against the photograph's edge like glass. I'll be there
Page four. Kirtu is in your living room now. The comic's art style has shifted—it's rougher, pencil-smudged, like someone drew it in a panic. Kirtu is sitting on your couch. He's looking at the space where you're sitting in real life. Your real couch. Your real hands hovering over your real keyboard.