Small Considerations

Transfigures Cover We haven’t discussed it since, but when I see his lips, I remember and I hope he does too. We’ve been avoiding each other lately, communicating rather cryptically, through postcards, sending and receiving up to three or four a day. The lady at the card store thinks that I have a paramour in some far-flung corner of the world. Every morning, she smiles and shows me what’s new, asks about my paramour, tells me that its nice to see a young person keeping the art of manual correspondence alive. It would take too much effort to explain that I am sending these cards to a man who lives seven miles away from me. And it would take too much effort to explain why I’m more comfortable filling postcards with tiny print rather than picking up the phone, or meeting him for lunch. Some days, there aren’t enough postcards in the world to tell Blake all the things I need to say. And I wrote that earlier today, on one of Best Transgender Erotica my cards. But then I tore it, and flushed the brightly colored shreds of paper down the toilet.

Instead, I will send him two cards, hoping he’ll read them in the correct order, explaining my well thought out plan for killing a coworker, and the mailman who feels the need to read Blake’s postcards before dropping them in the mailbox. I caught him today, because I was home early from work, so this message is in part for him. These mundane details will mask my loneliness, my hunger, my doubts, my fears.