Not by choice. It was a required subject. It hadn't been so bad in o-four, but now it sucked. Last year we got a lot of early art history: Rembrandt, ...Da Vinci, Michelangelo. Plus our own pathetic attempts at drawing and painting. But now Mr. Kincaid was onto abstract art, an art form that he thought was the height of human endeavor, but which, I thought was a waste of paint and canvas. Fifty minutes of listening to why Pablo Picasso was the greatest artist ever definitely fell under the. “Yeah, I like it. What about you?” “Yeah,” he responded, finding it hard to keep his rising passion under control. Raven’s lips met his in yet another kiss, her hands roaming over his bare back. Though completely outside his experience, he was able to follow her lead. Their tongues slipped out to caress each other. Breaths came quicker with each passing moment. Finally, she leaned back, sucking in a quavering breath while looking deep into his eyes. Her expression was strangely shy as she. " Gee thanks," I said to the door as it closed behind him.It started with my mother, who came and felt like she had to be all upbeat. She acted as though it was just a minor misunderstanding. One that got a little out of hand. She didn't even mention that I might have been killed. I'm not even sure it occurred to her."So mom, just go on back home I'm fine. I know you have been here a while and I'm fine. If anything comes up they will call you," I said to her. The anything I meant was if I took. . Godforbid... we might have to just kill the whole thing--" he caught hisfaux pas and corrected himself, "I mean, cancel the whole thing."My heart sank even lower. I wanted to vomit. It couldn't be. My dreamgirl, my dream project, everything was crashing down around me. Imuttered a nearly silent agreement into the receiver and hung up. Icollapsed on the sofa and buried my head in my hands. If I had evercried in my life, now would be the time. Instead of that, though, Ibegan retching in a fit.