Quietly, I ask, “Why’d you stop calling me by my name?” She’s boneless here, head lolling around as I work it between my hands. “Wha…?” she asks, forehead creasing in either pleasure or confusion. “I call you by your name.” “You used to,” I answer, gathering her hair in both fists and giving it a slow, gentle tug. The motion makes her shudder, mouth parting. “I liked it. No one else really calls me that. It’s always ‘Rath’.” I can see when she realizes what I’m talking about. Her slack jaw lifts, throat bobbing with a swallow. “Habit, I guess.” Bullshit of the highest order.
