8
Melanie looked up at the window of Dr. Fontaine's office. It was late, almost ten thirty, but he was up reading through his students' papers and offering friendly feedback in the margins of each budding poet's work. It was tedious, and most of the work - quite frankly - wasn't very good, but he was thankful for the job and excited by the prospect of seeing his favorite student. She had been a handful today, but the misunderstanding they had had only made his lust for her burn deeper. He knew she was a complex woman, he just had never expected the side of Melanie he had seen today: fiery, feisty and full of raw emotion.
"The poet's game is to take our raw emotions and use them to kill the blank page," he explained to his class one day.
"You must commit murder on the page with every wor
