Exodus 20: 3

by Freydís Moon

Diego had spent his life filling the silence with his own voice, rasping his vocal cords with cayenne and tequila and hormones until he finally recognized the sound.

“Biblical,” Ariel repeated. “I doubt God would take issue with what you do or don’t do with your body. The Bible was written by men—torn limb from limb and poorly sutured by the kings of Mysia. As much as I cherish the Gospel, it isn’t exactly godly anymore. Holy, yes. Important, yes. Inspirational, yes. But it’s the Bible that condemns promiscuity. Not God.”