He didn’t mind, and in fact he preferred it that way. He had his art, and that was enough for him. He became adept at ignoring the utter lonelines... he felt inside. He never complained, and he convinced himself that he was content with his life.He was astonished one morning when the pretty girl that he admired so much stopped by his easel and studied his half-completed seascape. Immersed as he was in his work, she startled him when she spoke: “That’s a beautiful painting, sir,” she stated. Her husband, Harold, didn’t seem to be very interested in her anymore. Sure, she was in her mid-40s but her tits weren’t sagging too badly and she’d put on a little bit of weight but nothing that destroyed her shape. A couple of times a month they would get it on but it was just the “same old, same old”.She knew enough from feeding and entertaining kids as they were growing up that you just had to try things differently once in a while to make them interesting. When she took more of the. More

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