. ?" Melissa giggled. "I could be a sex therapist." More than that my love. An illuminator, casting joie de vivre into dour shadows." Still, I miss painting." No more therapy needed." Yeah. I took over for you painting clown faces." You still have your nightmare paintings?" Yeah. They're at home hiding. I ... don't need to remember those nightmares. I'm so glad they stopped." I am too. But the memory's still there." Of course. It stopped haunting me." And your mother?" Yes. I really didn't want her to see the paintings you know." Yes. I remember the argument we had. But it worked, didn't it." That was a weird night," Melissa said contemplatively. "Like some sort of crazy psychodrama. Mom and me weeping like babies and cussing like sailors and slapping each other silly. That night, like the nights that caused our pain, it's like if my life's an ocean with land being events that contain vital emotions and thus memories, like you in my life would be like a continent with huge mountains. So aunty figured out that I must be awake. But she wondered what was I doing so late in the night. She walked towards my room. The door was slightly open. She pushed open the door. Aunty was taken aback by what she saw. I was sitting on the bed. My trousers and undies were pushed down to my ankles. In one hand I held a book. My other hand held my hard and stiff organ. I also was totally taken aback. For quite a few moments neither knew how to react. Then I suddenly pulled a blanket that was lying on the bed to cover my nudity. I was feeling terribly ashamed and embarrassed. As I lowered my head I swore at myself for not latching the door. Aunty too felt embarrassed. She knew she had no reason to feel embarrassed. After all it wasn't she who had been caught doing something naughty. But still her sense of embarrassment refused to go away. She wondered whether she should say anything to me but she really had no idea what to say. She just walked back to her room. As aunty laid herself.
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