Really, Being A Librarian Is A Much

I Have Done What They Expected Of Me. I Have Curtsied For My Queen And Made My Debut. This Is What I Have Anticipated Eagerly For Years. So Why Do I Feel So Unsatisfied? Everyone Is Merry. They Haven't A Care In The World. And Perhaps That Is It. How Terrible It Is To Have No Cares, No Longings. I Do Not Fit. I Feel Too Deeply And Want Too Much.

The Glow Dies Down, And She's Standing At The End Of My Bed--the One Who's Been Following Me Around Leaving Feather Messages. I Take In The Torn Fishnets, Plaid Mini-kilt, Shiny, Riveted Breastplate With Leather Straps At The Sides And A Worn Great Temolo Decal Near The Left Shoulder. Her Wings Are A Crazy Black-and-white-checkered Pattern, Like They've Been Spray-painted At A Body Shop To Look Like Hipster Sneakers.

I Thought I Was Having An Existential Crisis, But It Was Nothing. Please Don't Tailgate: Body In Trunk.

You Are Absolute Angels Of The First Order. If I Were Pope, I’d Canonize You.” “the Pope Would Probably Love To Turn A Cannon On You!

There's No Time To Be Modest. Reason Will Not Work Here. Without Warning, I Kiss Kartik. His Lips, Pressed Firmly Against Mine, Are A Surprise. They Are Warm, Light As Breath, Firm As The Give Of A Peach Against My Mouth. A Scent Like Scorched Cinnamon Hangs In The Air, But I'm Not Falling Into Any Vision. It's His Smell In Me. A Smell That Makes My Stomach Drop Through My Feet. A Smell That Pushes All Thought Out Of My Head And Replaces It With An Overpowering Hunger For More.