Near the end of my acting gig, my Frederick’s of Hollywood maribou slippers faltered. They could practically touch the finish line, one mere show’s worth of clomping away.

When I picked up the

The dress was in my periphery for a lifetime before I searched for it, before I found and bought and wore it like an explanation.

I wanted to tell her to fuck off, but I didn’t know the term yet. “Okay,” I said.  It was the blandest, safest response to something I knew in my marrow there was no escaping. 

We were halfway through our second-date dinner when I realized that my shirt was on backwards.

“Oh,” said Tom, a flat thud to my confession. “I didn’t notice.”

I watched him chew, staring