We Do What We Do in the Dark

by Michelle Hart

Being with the woman felt like standing underneath an awning during a downpour, but it would always continue to rain.

“You would not have wanted to be with me then,” said the woman. “I was not a very lovable person.” “I don’t think I’m a very lovable person either.” She wanted the woman to tell her she was, to tell her she could be. But the woman said, “No one is lovable at your age.”

Mallory imagined that the sky itself was watching over her. The stars appeared to her like eyes, as if she specifically was now worthy of the universe’s attention and care.

“I’m afraid of being alone and afraid that is the only way I know how to be.”