adult fiction
when i was in sixth grade i got dropped off at the library every day after school. my mom was at work and my dad long gone. there was a mini whiteboard at the desk for kids to write a note to their parents if they went to 7/11 for soda. monday through friday i roamed the stacks looking for books on esp and wilderness survival. the only section i never strayed into was romance. love was irrelevant, sex was something meant to hurt you, humiliation passed on behind the bathroom door. i was just trying to learn how to carve a canoe with your pocket knife and lash shelter together with vines. i had friends who hid trashy pink covered volumes under their beds. they traded them back and forth with whispers and wondering about first kisses and first times and what it would all be like. i was horrified. the flipped hair, the bicep curl, heavy breathing and thrust, sighing dialogue. someone’s lace on the carpet. and already the boys on the playground with rolled shirt sleeves and designs shaved at their temples, the girls with short acid wash skirts and aquanet bangs. not for me. desire was foreign, carved out of my body like a tumor, cancerous possibilities that will just kill you. i was hell bent on escape, honing my super powers and digging roots in the dark dirt.
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August 2020
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