A Work of Art, Fiction
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A Work of Art, Chapter 10

Life went on. Max had returned to his regular cafe job on Monday morning, after a day wandering and wondering. How could his life make sense after Andrew’s departure? Andrew had called to announce that he had arrived to his regular life, and Max couldn’t ask if Andrew had envisioned that such regular life could include him some day. He couldn’t ask, because after all he had been the sex worker who had become the lover, and who knew if it meant they could envision being boyfriends next. He knew there was a roommate, who also was a helper, at Andrew’s home, but he didn’t know what kind of relationship they had, if any, beyond that. It would have been easier if the helper had been female, it would have cleared the ambiguity. Or perhaps worsened it, perhaps she would have been his wife.

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