Lavender

“In it, I was sitting across from my wife, who was nude but wrapped in a gauzy fabric. She had a clipboard in her hand, and was moving a pencil down it as if ticking off entries on a list.
"Where are you?" she asked.
"Devil's Throat," I said.
"What are you doing?"
"Carrying a basket through the forest."
"What's in the basket?"
I looked down, and there they were: four beautiful spheres.
"Two eggs," I counted. "Two figs."
"Are you sure?"
I did not look down again, afraid that the answer would change. "Yes."
"And what is through the forest?"
"I do not know."
"And what is through the forest?"
"I am not certain."
"And what is through the forest?"
"I cannot tell."
"And what is through the forest?"
"I don't remember."
"And what is through the forest?"
I woke up before I could answer.”
― Carmen Maria Machado, Her Body and Other Parties: Stories

“We've learned that quiet isn't always peace.”
― Amanda Gorman, Call Us What We Carry

“She was alone as she had never been. Alone with precious few possessions and no notion of where to take them except away from Mr. Earwood and the promise of a landlocked life.”
― Natalie C. Parker, All Out: The No-Longer-Secret Stories of Queer Teens throughout the Ages

“Yes, is the obvious answer. I do hate you. I hate everything about you. I hate you so much that whenever I’m around you, I can barely think straight. I can barely even breathe.”
― Ann Liang, If You Could See the Sun