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Bobby
It began with a cold wet April late night knock on my door. Bedraggled, wet, and wretched, clutching a small satchel, Bobby stood at my door. “I’ve been kicked out; can I come in?” Of course I let him in. He was a young man, whom I had tutored before his university admission tests. Bright, articulate, personable, but he did lack focus. Decades younger than I, I was never tempted by him, although there was no doubt he was attractive. He just seemed too young, although he was legally an adult. He...