None of them needed to know that, just as they were, they were inspirations to me. Didn’t rich people pay artists all the time back in the old days, and fund their work just like “S”? Gay sex I still do. This is how the world should be.This happy mantra spun my head downtown, through ice cream shops and sunny park strolls. My orgasm was upon me. I felt its glare pierce me. I didn’t know a Renoir from a Van Gogh. Looking at the phone clock, I saw that it was noon. This was a scam, obviously. I sat on my knees. I flipped through the apps in a panic.***Hey Davey,The contract is below. I was being taken. But writing is a terrible commitment of resources. I stood against the window, steadied by my grip on a metal pole. I felt its glare pierce me. I drooled stupidly as I mumbled, “Please make me write for you, S… Should I? You should have received your first payment. I stared up into the sky, letting the cool air wash over me.”Fuck this shit,” I muttered. I moaned quietly under its light.”I need this to be real. It spoke manically, as if through clenched teeth.”Wha…” I babbled, “…are you ‘S?’ Are you here?””You NEED
