The marker tip is cold, but only heat encases me as she dips the Sharpie down my sternum to my abs. She draws swirls around my butterfly tattoo on my ribs. “On my planet,” she says, causing my pulse to skip, “these are markings of protection. You are impenetrable. No one, no one, can penetrate you.” I’m so fucking in love with her, it’s not even funny anymore.
