The Art of Wag

The Art of Wag by Susan C. Daffron Page A

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Authors: Susan C. Daffron
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reassembled in front of her, the instructor said, “I haven’t heard what’s going on, but I have counted and it seems you’re all here and not burning up into little cinders inside. So let’s just take our lunch break early. Meet back here at two o’clock. I hope I don’t have to tell you that if the building is truly on fire, please do not go inside. We’ll reschedule the class. However, since I don’t see smoke, I’m betting someone just wanted to get out of a test. I’ll see you here in two hours.”
    Relieved to finally be able to get away from the awful noise, Tracy turned and started walking away from the din. There had to be a convenience store around here somewhere. She had two dollars budgeted for a lunch of pretzels, crackers, and a soda, but now she really wanted to get some aspirin too. That was going to cut into her funds.
    Rob ran up alongside her. “Hi. Since we have some time, would you like to go to lunch with me?”
    Tracy shook her head. “I was just going to get something at a quick mart somewhere. Have you seen anything like a 7-Eleven nearby?”
    “No. There’s a great deli, though. And we actually have time to eat lunch, thanks to the alarm, so we don’t have to rush.”
    “Sorry. This might sound like a lame excuse, but I can’t afford that.” With the exception of the last two dollars, she’d given her cash to Shelby again so her friend could have lunch.
    Rob’s bushy brows came together momentarily and then his expression lightened. “Don’t worry about that! It’s my treat. I want to talk to you about your drawing yesterday.” He pointed toward a building. “The place is right over there.”
    Tracy smiled at his enthusiasm. “Well, okay. If you don’t mind paying, I don’t mind eating. I thought the drawing we did yesterday was fun, didn’t you?”
    “Not exactly.” He readjusted his backpack on his shoulder, hunching over like a turtle retreating into its shell. “I know guys aren’t supposed to cry, but that thing I drew was enough to make a grown man weep. Even I could see that.”
    “What was it? Or was it an abstract?” All artists knew that the term “abstract” could be used to tactfully indicate that a piece of art had no resemblance to anything in the real world. Sometimes abstracts were created on purpose. And sometimes not. Fortunately, Rob probably wasn’t aware of that little verbal nuance.
    Rob gestured toward the sky. “It was going to be a sunset. Then I changed my mind and it was going to be an ocean scene. Then I deleted something and it just got worse.”
    “The colors were...interesting.”
    “I know. Nothing like that exists in nature. Well, maybe after the apocalypse it might, but not now.”
    Tracy laughed. “Thank goodness for that! At least you don’t seem too worried about it.”
    Rob opened the door at the deli for Tracy. “I was hoping I could talk to you about that. But first, what do you want to eat?”
    They perused the menu, ordered, and sat down at a table with their sandwiches. Rob had been right; the place was great and Tracy dug into her huge avocado-filled veggie sandwich with gusto. She paused to pick a wayward clover sprout off her chin. “This is so good. Thank you! So you wanted to talk about your artwork for the class. Is there anything I can do to help?”
    Rob put down his sandwich and leaned forward. “Well, last night after I got home, I had a message from someone who wants a huge web site. From a technical standpoint, it’s really exciting, with lots of back-end databases.”
    “Uh, you think databases are exciting?” Was he kidding? And what was a back-end database? Something dirty? The Internet was supposed to be full of porn, after all. Ick.
    “When it comes to web sites, including database technology like that means it is going to cost money. Lots of money. They even want to tie in the real-estate multiple-listing databases so people can look at houses online. A real-estate web site for a tourist

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