One particular sentence left my mouth without my brain realizing its consequences, yet the words had been said and the damage had been done. "I'd love...to see some of your work," I had said. Moments later, I had been invited to Mr. Monet's studio. After both his and mine classes of the next day - a Friday, one day before the event - were over, and after I had helped him clean up his classroom, he walked me to his car. A few students were still hanging around the parking lot, but paid little. “Well, it’s like this...” Filling in his brother on the details, he waited nervously, hoping Roger wouldn’t think he was some kind of idiot, or gone cultist, or worse, pull the same drooling routine some of his friends from work had given when they found out he had not one girlfriend, but two. Jahn shouldn’t have worried. Roger was a rock to lean on, always had been. “It sounds like you really dig them. I’m glad for you, bro.” “You don’t think it’s weird, then? Or like I’m taking advantage of. More

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