- Vol. 04
- Chapter 08
From the museum of sacred, terrifying things. When we said love we meant something else. Something shaped like a mythical creature whose lungs were no match for air. Something with a tail that dragged forever like a tire kicking up dirt all the way home. I know this now because it appeared so easily, slipped in as we fingered the lock’s numbers, the combination coming up again and again. Love is a thing with teeth and no memory. It is its own sacred rite clawing. It will not be forgotten just as I cannot forget this. Lines draw across the surface, someone else reading aloud.