’m one of them,” I said, my throat swollen and raw, tears starting to burn the corners of my eyes. I looked down at my reflection, saw him look at the front cover, then at me, then down into the mirror of the lake. Our eyes met there, in the broken surface of the water, the moon’s light dancing around us in a shattered halo.

“What do you mean?” He wrapped his arm around my waist, letting go of the magazine; it flapped gracelessly to the dock and toppled into the lake with a muffled splash.

“I’m one of them. Homosexual.” My tightened voice betrayed me and I sucked back snot and spit it into the water, warping our reflections with tiny concentric circles.

 

Complete story forthcoming in 20th Century Q.

 

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