“Commerce!” Emily shouted. “The hoarding and ceding and exchange of power. I see no clearer path into the souls of human people.”
That’s the problem with photographs, isn’t it? They remind you who is missing.
What we liked most of all was each other. All three of us, the glorious fabric of the relationship, the family we made of ourselves—but we were losing the exhilaration we’d once felt, the wild emotional loops of our shared-identity roller coaster.
The audience Q and A begins, and someone asks about the relationship between kink and queerness.
Do not fear your moments of sorrow, your deep frustration, the force of your being. I have made you strong enough to want and not receive.
I’d tilt myself and roll to each side on the dirt, offering the bees new areas of my body.
Even at their best, in-laws were the occupational hazard of loving someone else.
Melinda’s violation of their agreement—to stay the same for each other, forever—was so profound that she split their shared sphere in two.
My mind drifted to the almost-lycanthropic being I’d imagined her becoming, half wolf, half researcher, neither coming back to me, dead or alive.