She wanted to wrap more of herself around Homily. To grow large enough that this kindly fat woman could be protected inside her. To consume her, without the harm, until all their motions were complementary. Homily held onto her both like she was fragile and like she would slip away into the sea if she released her grip. She wanted to tell her it was all right to hold on. That she was monstrously durable. Anything to keep her near. Their dance was like consensual hatching.
