When I read your name on the toe tag, I don’t believe it right away. Then I see your ankle tattoo, faded but still the same shape.
Fiction
Root Bound
Somehow this had been the first time their house had been tagged with Katherine there. The graffiti had gone quiet every other time she visited, as if the neighborhood understood that an upper-middle-class white lady from a gated community wouldn’t understand tagging even though she sure as shit understood property boundaries.
Into the Sun
I had asked to go with him, but he told me he needed to do it alone, going on and on about growing into himself, wanting to fully become the man he was meant to be so that he could do right by me, and I had told him he was everything, yet my protests did not matter.