We’re released into the water supply. Globe-trotters. Kissers, both cheeks. In the heights curls are back. Bells in heaven. My eyebrow arched and I gasped.
In architect years this is an old crisis, fallen and liberated by the carpentry of reading sensory input as the doctor’s tongue worked in circles. Then he darted in. I realized tension was flying from my face, dull and throbbing.