She changed her sketch paper one after another.
I saw it. It looked like me.
That was my eye.
Why did Jocelyn only draw an eye on each piece of paper and throw it away?
It was drawn so similarly.
One night, the walls of the 100-square-feet room were covered with portraits.
However, none of them was of me.
When Konner came in, he looked around.
Finally, he looked at a pile of drafts next to the easel.
There was an eye on every one of them.
That was me.
"Why is there only one eye on each of them?"
“I drew them wrong.”
Jocelyn was the best criminal sketch artist in the city.
How could she draw it wrong?
Suddenly, Konner put one of the drafts next to Jocelyn's face.
"What's wrong?"
Konner dragged Jocelyn in front of the mirror.
"Look! Isn't this eye exactly the same as yours?"
Konner became serious. "I remember Theresa's eyes look the same as yours."
Jocelyn tore the draft into pieces.
"Stop joking. I've stayed up for a few nights, and I'm tired."
Konner was not going to let her go. "Where's Theresa? Call her and let her know. Things have been strange these days. I hope nothing will happen to her."