Brown eyes that saw color in rich unique blends as he painted, almost unnaturally long fingers from a man, slender but strong from working part-time a... a landscaper, but giving him a touch upon the canvas that allowed quick smooth strokes of his brush.His entire world existed within the confines of his tiny studio. Much of which he'd ever painted sat in domino looking stacks along the walls, even the floor. Portraits, landscapes, even a few characters, and cartoons he had done, though these. You're really a girl, aren't you?" I asked, unbelieving."No, not all the way, but in most ways. I have breasts. I like boys now.I like you, Robby. And I know that you can finish what's been started,"he said, looking at me intently."Finish?" I asked, uncomfortable with what he was referring to."Shut up and come here," he said, taking my hand and leading me back tocamp. Like a boy who'd spent his whole summer there, Mark found asecluded spot behind the lake's boat shed, and turned to face me.. More

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