And They Lived . . .

by Steven Salvatore

Jack sees me, and his hand shoots up. And I obviously have no chill, so my hand does this awkward wiggle thing that makes me look like a T. rex doing the “shopping cart,” and my cheeks get insanely hot.

Back in our suite, Benny and Xavier find me frantically typing “I have exactly fifty minutes to learn everything about the mechanics of gay sex because our education system failed me, and gay porn is overproduced, help” into Google.

“Who is we?” he asks. “I’m talking about you. Sometimes, there isn’t any way all of you can be wrapped up in one pretty package with a shiny bow.

we exist in the breath between lightning and thunder where the end is a beginning that starts with three simple words a poem by your name that goes I love you I love you I love you