Decades from now, when we think ourselves healed from this rift in our souls, have near forgotten this communion of the lost, you will itch. This itch...will disturb you, but you’ll have dislodged the memory of your beloved Muse and will not recall the need to create. Perhaps you’ll attempt other means or creativity: painting, building, knitting, but activity will leave you unfulfilled. The itch will eventually pass, and you’ll remain hollow. I miss Her, to be quite frank. I yearn for Her gentle. I am a dirty little slut. Please fuck me. Please, I need it so bad!". An enormous grin flashes across Roger’s face. Even back then I guessed he knows I'll do whatever now. And Carl knows, too, because he says "I'm not sure she's earned it yet." Roger smiles and responds "I think you're right." He grabs me under my arms, lifts me off the bed and stands me up in the middle of the room between the two beds at the walls, wall with the door behind me, wall with the window in front of me, behind him.. More

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