Hecould only think of home in browns and reds. Or as some faded paintingfound at the back of a thrift store. The thought was too much, he had torun to...the toilet and throw up.During the bus ride home, he took out the postgrad fellowship formProfessor Drew ('call me Mitch') had given him. Some arts organizationdown in Mexico run by old friends of his.He lay back in his seat, feeling the weak Fall sun on his face. He couldalready hear what his ma would say. He had it all written out in his. Was Miss Tonya in on it with Candy? Both of them were trying to make him insane with their braless trickery.“Ah, thank you,” he said. “I'm just going to rinse my hands.”Miss Tonya said, “Good,” and stared at his hands, waiting.He turned the end of the nozzle and it hissed, sputtered and spurted out varying streams in different directions. It was one of those stupid sprayers that started out in a wide mist, then went to a stream after you unscrewed it far enough. This one was defective, and. More

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