“Who?” Curiosity slipped from my teeth before I realized it didn’t matter. I listened to my sister explain, hearing her words in the way only little sisters can. Her husband’s friend and his fiancé were excited to welcome me into their new house. They were good peeps. (Translation: She met them once. They seemed alright. She didn’t tell them the full story.) I’d have a … Continue reading ❤melt : they open doors
A heartmelt post that starts years before I ever went away. Continue reading ❤melt : what if we fly?
I met Alex when I was 17 years old. I don’t know if you can remember so long ago, but I can. Back then, the world was so small that everything was within reach, and time was so overgrown that you could take as much as you needed. Back then, we were afraid to die young, as if life were more slippery than youth. We … Continue reading ❤melt : calling on alex
A really long time ago, I issued the first Rarasaur playtime challenge. I asked my readers to volunteer themselves, and promised I would write a limerick about them. I did almost all, but left one out. That reader– Jessie, of Behind the Willows— was one of my original 100 readers. Despite my failure to complete my own mission, she still stuck by me. And she … Continue reading ❤melt : i was there
I don’t have a scanner so the comic is hard to read, unless you click to make it bigger. I’ll summarize it for you, though. It’s titled: Why Rarasaurs Make Bad Inmates Reason One : They Talk to C/Os It’s me waving to a C/O, and him waving back and calling me by name. Reason Two: They Befriend Tough-Girls It’s me, explaining to a girl … Continue reading ❤melt : they leave
Mail is late and we’ve already been locked in for the night. A letter is kicked under the cell door. “Just one today,” the officer ponders, “Maybe they all stopped loving you.” I laugh, a low peal of chuckles– revealing as much about my comfortable relationship with him as my confidence in my world. His booming male-guffaw follows him down the hall. I pick the … Continue reading ❤melt : everything’s gonna be okay
The simple truth is, I love him. Sometimes I type his number onto my cellphone just to stare at it. Just to remind myself to breathe. In prison, I would sign up for a phone slot and sit in the booth for all fifteen minutes– just to stare at his number on my hand. I don’t press the button to connect because I don’t need … Continue reading ❤melt: the simple truth