…but you aren’t married…

“May, I… I’m sorry if I accidentally encroached on your personal space yesterday and today. I… I don’t know why I keep reaching for your hand or cuddling up to you at night or leaning on your shoulder. Mom keeps saying that I shouldn’t be, that there’s someone else… but she never goes into detail when I ask her who.” Constance sat in silence, watching the forest go by quickly outside the van windows. “Anyway… I see that your dad’s kept you away from blogging all day.”
“Yeah.” I noticed that his hand was creeping up to mine again, he seemingly unaware of his advances. “Is that a wedding ring on your hand?”
His eyes shot back to the present, having lapsed into a daydream during my silence. “Yeah, it’s from Zorphia-”
“Zorphia? That place full of homophobic aliens and giant mutants that couldn’t find a home anywhere else?”
“Yes.” A pained expression crossed his face. What did I do? Why is he acting this way? “I suppose we’ll just have to add it to the list of things that I don’t know the explanation for.”


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