“No,” he says—compulsory muscle memory, and he finds himself buried under a slew of them: no-no-no-no-no-no-no, tapping on the roof of his mouth over and over until the sound is meaningless slop, though maybe it has always been. What an honor it must be to speak and be understood. What an honor to be listened to.
-Bloody Aubade by Larkin Bryne















