One of the other older men said, “Since we know you ain't from around here, what can we help ya with young man?” “Well, I am looking for the Bi... Bull Campground. I am supposed to be installing an ATM there but I have no clue where it is.” “You got a boat?” “Uh, no. Should I have a boat?” No one at the office said anything about the damn campground being on an island. “Well,” said the teenager, “since it is on an island without a bridge to get there, it would probably be help.” “Fuck! Is there. “The better they were, I think, the more they suffered. Like van Gogh.” His face was stern, and solemn. “And yet you want to paint.” I laughed nervously. “Yeah, well—I’m not that good. So I shouldn’t have to worry.” “But you could be,” he cocked his head. “You could be great. If you’re not afraid to suffer a little for it. Are you afraid to suffer, Penny?” Across from me, he looked vaguely pensive, and stormy. For once, his eyes were like cold, blue water, instead of solid ice. “No,” I. More

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