Bars vs. Bullets—Elizabeth Goes to the Theater
Maybe a spoof called “The Choir of Non-Binary, Fluid, Ambiguous, and Polymorphously Adventurous”?
Christmas, Baby.
The next morning at the hospital nursery Kitty approached her premature grandson for the first time. The nurse allowed her to hold him and he yawned with a power which awed her. Suddenly there was something small showing its strength by pushing against her grasp. Choosing her.
The stomach tightens and sinks.
The heart and lungs follow.
It’s a confounding reaction to a receipt of affection.
It’s familiar, and, therefore, oddly comforting.
But familiarity can be a curse.
A cursed reminder of what once went wrong when you were just trying to do things right this time.
This time it’ll be different, you say.
Why? You’re different, but what are you doing differently?