short story
Gio sat and stared at the form. The word Gender stared back. Gio hated that word. It had stalked them their whole lives. Firstly, in the shadows. That off feeling they would get when someone would say “she” or “her” or “that woman over there looking awkward as fuck”. The
short story
The fire cracks as I lie in the grass and watch the stars. It’s quiet except for the crickets and the occasional birdcall. No lights as far as the eye can see. I hold my hands up in the light of the fire to examine the shine of the
memoir
After years of slowly destroying them with estrogen and testosterone blockers, I have finally made the decision: my testicles have to go. It’s nothing personal; just they continue in their persistent attempts to try and flood my bloodstream with horrible, horrible androgens. The surgery is booked in, and in
short story
“I’m just not at that point in my life, you know?” says the person who I think might be a friend of a friend of a friend once removed. It was at this moment that I decide I am done. I hate this wedding and everyone at it. I