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On my way to the table I stop and retrieve my favorite fork from the dishrack beside the sink. I have an entire case of silverware and have never cared much about which utensil I use, but there’s something special about this fork. It’s old-fashioned and sterling silver. Perfectly weighted with solid tines that feel good in my mouth.
I make the mistake of meeting Mike’s gaze again. He thinks he’s better than I am, but he’s not. “You lick what’s left of your balls on my pillow when you think I’m not looking so let’s be kinder when it comes to judging each other, okay?”
Fourteen. That’s how many of us are left. Out of over fifty men. What we’re doing matters, though, so we’ll keep fighting until the very last one of us is gone. And no one will escape us—not today, not ever. I pause mid-stride. Is this how every soldier thinks or am I losing my humanity? I’m glad the program faked my death. I wouldn’t want my family to know the man I’m becoming.
“You’re the answer to questions I never thought my heart would ask.”
I’m a man in my prime with a good amount of appreciation for the opposite sex. Mercedes has me lusting about her one moment then nearly cooing that she’s so adorable the next. I don’t know what to do with the feelings she’s stirring in me.
“Crazy is a term used by those who choose to limit themselves to what is comfortable for them to believe. Don’t ask anyone for permission to be you. Embrace what makes you happy.”
Oh, my God, he really is a fork. My fork. I fucked my fork. I was forked.
With a serious expression, he says, “You need to know that sometimes, when I’m asleep, I change color to match the pattern of my blanket.” “If I have cheese I fart so loud it wakes me up.”