If I’d caught the wrong kind of playtime with neighbor Rick or pastor Thomas, nobody would wonder why I waited to share. Nobody thinks I need a can of mace or brass knuckles just to get by. ![]() Nobody asks me for tampons because the red death came early. I’ve never had to think about the ragged dagger’s edge between prude, pregnant, and PTSD. It was a lovely distraction until an idiot military drunk let Kavanaugh’s shadow darkened the horizon. Budget be damned, playing the hermit now could kill me. ![]() ![]() “We The people text” by Anthony Garand on Unsplash
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