I spewed enough cuss words that I was sure I wouldn’t see him again. That wasn’t the case, because just this morning he waltzes into my gallery, g...inning from ear to ear. “Good morning, sunshine.” Did I just hear him right? “Hi Eric.” I muttered, half smiling. He was carrying two Styrofoam coffee cups and handed one to me. “I hope you like a little cream and sugar.” “Actually, I prefer iced caramel cappuccinos, but this will do, thanks.” “I’ll remember that.” He grinned, just enough that I. He didnt really spend time with the other teachers, electing to read Byron and Shelly under a large magnolia tree by himself instead. It was here that I first developed a passion for poetry. I would sit with him under the tree everyday. In a way, I felt like it was inappropriate… But it was dangerous and he didnt seem to mind having me around hanging on his every word. Sometimes I would dress sexy for him, hoping he would notice. And he did, but he was too much of a gentleman to give in to my. More

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