“Why?”“I took Ben Bowers with me.” My heart started beating in my throat. Ben Bowers is the art critic for the Times. That might not seem like...much in a town like ours, but he was highly respected in art circles and had written critiques of work all over the world. He could be a scathing critic or a word from him could make the career of a new artist. Damn! Why had he brought an art critic to see a piece of student art? I grabbed both Lissa’s and Melody’s hands under the table and squeezed so. He casually said no to it but I insisted him and he came down stairs and we had tea together.It was a span of hardly half an hour with a casual chit chat and throughout the time he stayed with me I looked into his eyes repeatedly, possibly to read him, if he is safe to do that nasty act, I don’t know why apparently I was thinking whether I should go for it or not, deep inside I was already reached to the conclusion that I don’t have any other option and I have to do it with himand it was. More

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