Catch and Cradle

by Katia Rose

“Okay, ladies!” I nudge his arm with my elbow. “And people of all identities,” he adds.

She’s a whole universe slowly unfolding itself in front of me, and there’s something humbling and precious about that.

I’ve always noticed her. I’ve always felt her like a change in seasons, like a shift of scents and colours, of sounds in the air and wind on my skin. Sometimes she’s the first crackle of dried leaves in the fall and sometimes she’s the mud and melting of spring, but she’s always a change. She’s always a collection of warning signs there to remind me I spend every day of my life pulled around the sun by a force I can’t feel or see.

what being a friend means: believing in the people you love so much that they always find their way back to believing in themselves.

She’s directly across from me, and we keep locking eyes, smiling and looking away, then locking eyes again. It’s very gay.