by Kerry Graham
He slid my just-fallen flip-flop back on my foot. I thought, “He treats me like a princess.”
Still, it surprised me when, his head in my lap, my fingers in his hair, I disclosed my diagnosis, and, gazing at me, he said, “I’m actually even more attracted to you now. You’re so honest.” Later, his lips hopscotching along my shoulder, neck, nose, mouth made sense.
“I think sometimes I tell people to see if they’ll still love me.” I said this after, but he was asleep: just-fallen. In the dark, my toes still tingled where his kisses, tender, had tumbled.
Kerry Graham lives, teaches, writes, runs, and photographs in Baltimore, MD. Her work has appeared in The Blue Hour, The Three Quarter Review, Spry, elephant journal, and 20 Something Magazine.