The first time Melon kisses me, she tugs me behind someone’s parked car, a minivan with a dog in it. I watch the dog pawing the window, its tongue pulsing against the glass like the overcrowded fish at the grocery store, their scaled bodies thudding against the tank as they try to swim away from their kin. Afterward, when we return to the restaurant, Melon hums the rest of the day, a blank sound no one can name. I begin to suspect that Melon has stolen my breath and is singing with it.
