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large grouping, then the frogs would spread further apart as they scattered away from each other. The wall would become their playground. I could just imagine dozens of tree frogs slapping their weight against the heavy structure as they hopped along their haphazardly planned path.
    The museum director wanted the frogs to look almost bronze in color… as if they were old, tarnished, and antique. Even though my specialty was clay, I seriously considered making bronze bas-relief sculptures. My instincts told me to stick with clay and I’m glad I did. Turns out the museum director picked me specifically because of my clay sculptures and experience.
    I knew by her thoughts that she was fairly lenient with how I would arrange them throughout the wall, but I wondered what she would think about every frog having a pair of amethyst eyes. The eyes would be small and hardly noticeable unless you looked closely. Or, unless the sun happens to shine directly upon them, which, in my opinion, would make the entire wall look absolutely stunning.
    An entire wall full of glittering amethyst eyes. Just the thought was enough to make me jizz in my pants. I was that far gone over her.
    Luckily, my dad has been very supportive of my line of study. He had seen the outcome of my art and the demand already put upon me by local businesses wanting to commission my work. He felt the need for me to have my own studio and I quickly realized how many other students needed the freedom away from school to work on their art as well. Not long after, we started a community ceramics art studio, at which I spend most of my time.
    I named the studio Lavendine, although I found out quickly that not many people know the meaning behind the word. All the better. As much as my art screamed differently, I honestly desired anonymity in my life. No one needed to know why I was fascinated with the color purple. No one needed to know my secrets.
    Only the people who were close to me, or had seen my sketchbooks, would know of my addiction.
    She was my addiction. Like a drug habit I didn’t want to shake.
     
    Walking into my apartment after a twelve-hour stint at Lavendine Studios, I looked forward to crashing in my bed and never emerging again.
    Glazing eight-dozen frogs with a tarnished-bronze coloring was methodical and rather tedious. I had to burnish and rub at each one just right in order to get the look I desired. I had been working tirelessly on the unique glazing application for several days now, but today was the longest I’d spent in one sitting so far. My neck and shoulders ached after being hunched over the workbench all day.
    Sluggishly dragging my ass into the door, I dropped my bag on the coffee table and immediately headed for the kitchen. Damn, I was starved.
    I received a few text messages from my father today, asking me if I had eaten and telling me to call my mom. I did neither.
    “Dude, you’re finally home. I was wondering when the zombie would come out of you. Did you finish?”
    I turned my head listlessly and looked at my roommate through my foggy vision. Jay was a good roommate and a cool friend, too. Not only was he in most of my classes with me at school, but he also worked for me at Lavendine, helping keep an eye on the place and helping members while I wasn’t there.
    “Ahh, yeah. They’re all in the kiln. Although, I’ll be lucky if I remember anything by tomorrow, I’m so fucking tired,” I said as I turned back around and headed for the fridge. “It would be great if you could peek in on the kiln in the morning. Make sure it shuts off and all. The cone sitter has been acting wonky lately and I’m worried it may not shut off automatically when the cone melts.”
    “You sure it’s the sitter and not the cones?” Jay asked, making me realize I was more tired than I thought.
    “Shit, you know what—you’re right. That is a new box of cones. We should check and make sure it’s properly bent once the firing is complete. I’ll