"I wonder if we could talk," she said."Sure. Coffee?" I asked holding an empty mug up. She nodded. I poured, the aroma of rich full-bodied coffee deli...hting my senses. I put the bowl of cereal aside and sat at the table, passing her a mug of coffee, some sugar in a bowl and a carton of milk.Mary poured milk into her mug and stirred. She took the tiniest of sips and put the mug down, wrapping her hands around it. "Finn, I need to talk to you about Cassandra."A pulse of fear hit me. My hand. Others had been done in realistic color and shading. The areas unpainted had numbers. “Paint by Numbers,” Joe chuckled aloud.“The concept pissed me off,” Freddy told him.“Yours?” he asked.“Yeah. Pretty amateurish.”“It’s brilliant!”“But...”“How long had you been painting before this?”“About a year maybe? This was my first oil, at least the first I kept.”“And after?” he asked, feeling the rawness had been explained.“I guess I’m not patient enough.”“You don’t paint?”“Just at school. I only really. More

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