It must be lonely up here.”“No, it’s all right, Ma’am,” I said, remembering to be respectful. “It’s just that I’m so tired from the da....”“They shouldn’t work you so hard.” Gloria sat down on the end of my bed. She was no longer wearing her jacket, just a white shirt and the tweed waistcoat. She was wearing a man’s tie but had pulled it loose and her shirt collar was unbuttoned. She reached towards me and put her hand on my thigh. I backed away as far as I could in the bed, still clutching the. Thank you for what you said, Bill. I can see that you are a man for whom words come easy. I can draw or paint, but I'm not so good with words. You were right about everything. His name was Giuseppe Todaro; he is Italian, and he could definitely paint. But his paintings depicted things and ideas; they didn't look like anything real. To me, his paintings were just splashes of color and jagged lines. I couldn't understand his works, but it seems Maria did. His paintings spoke to her on some level. More

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