The Moon’s Navel
“You’re Mexican!” he said a little too enthusiastically, like I was just what he’d been looking for. I worried that he was going to put me in his museum or something.
How is anyone from here?
Enter your email address to receive notifications for author John Paul Brammer
Confirmation link sent to your email to add you to notification list for author John Paul Brammer
More by this author
There was nowhere to go back to. Oklahoma was out of the question, always out of the question. But then, where was home?
All the wrong people are crying, and all the people who ought to feel something do not.
More in this series
What we liked most of all was each other. All three of us, the glorious fabric of the relationship, the family we made of ourselves—but we were losing the exhilaration we’d once felt, the wild emotional loops of our shared-identity roller coaster.