The Honeys

by Ryan La Sala

I know people think being queer is, like, very fabulous and full of witty repartee and all that, but sometimes it’s also crying in the bathroom of an Applebee’s somewhere near Margaretville, New York, while Rihanna’s “S&M” plays on the speakers for the early-bird crowd.

The forest slides away and all the winking details—the glimpsed buildings and the walls and the fields—crash together, forcing apart the brambles so that the sky rushes in, so big and blue you could choke on it.

This is good.