I Don't Think You Should Die Until

God Doesn't Like Lesbians," Grandma Huberman Hised, Throwing The Magazine In The Trash. Jennifer Knew What Lesbian Meant, And She Knew She Probably Was One. But She Couldn't Understand Why God Would Hold That Against Her Or Against Monica Mathers, Who'd Never Started A War Or Killed Anybody, And Whose Deadeye Three-pointers Were Straight-up Amazing. After All, Hadn't God Made Both Of Them? But People Were Like That, She'd Noticed. They'd Invoke Godly Privilege At The Weirdest Of Times And For The Most Stupid Reasons.

We've Left The Moment. It's Gone. We're Somewhere Else Now, And That's Okay. We've Still Got That Moment With Us Somewhere, Deep In Our Memory, Seeping Into Our Dna. And When Our Cells Get Scattered , Whenever That Happens, This Moment Will Still Exist In Them. Those Cells Might Be The Biulding Block Of Something New. A Planet Or Star Or A Sunflower, A Baby. Maybe Even A Cockroach. Who Knows? Whatever It Is, It'll Be A Part Of Us, This Thing Right Here And Now, And We'll Be A Part Of It.

It Keeps Her Purity Vacum-sealed To Preserve Its Freshness For Her Future Husband.

But...you Could Have Whatever You Wished." "exactly," He Says, Nuzzling My Neck. "but," I Say, "you Could Turn Stones To Rubies Or Ride In A Fine Gentleman's Carriage." Kartik Puts His Hands On Either Side Of My Face. "to Each His Own Magic," He Says And Kisses Me Again.

The Vicar, Whose Name Is Reverend Waite, Leads Us In Prayers That All Begin With 'o Lord' And End With Our Somehow Not Being Worthy-sinners Who Have Always Been Sinners And Will Forever More Be Sinners Until We Die. It Isn't The Most Optimistic Outlook I've Ever Heard But We're Encouraged To Keep Trying Anyway.