I wonder, father, what you would say if you saw me now. I do not fast. Boys come to me and I feed from them when I am hungry. I use the red pools of their life to satisfy myself even as I do not deny myself their flesh for my other ... appetites. I find temporary satisfaction, and then I turn it all into my art.

     "Welcome..." the sleepy young man whispers, "...home." A kiss at your cheek, "My love..."

     And he rose from where he sat. He rose without goodbyes. A stained glass shadow, he abandoned the remainder of the reminders. This is what it is like to be without you.