Out on a Limb

by Hannah Bonam-Young

That’s right. A fucking ice dispenser! I am that bitch now.

“The idea of having a constant supply of ice is making me a bit emotional,” I say, raising a slow finger to point at the fridge. “Your priorities are, as always, impeccable,” she says, pushing past me toward the hallway. “Let’s see what your bedroom looks like.”

“I love you, Win. I love you so much it makes me feel like I’ve hated everything else in my life up until now. Nothing compares to what I feel for you. Not even close.”