Deliberacy

I fell for Jack too soon—before he arced. Back when his tears mingled with the rain and his bag of fresh shirts lay forgotten on the Tube. He had me then.

It wasn’t his tears that got me. Not the fact that he was in pain, so much as his capacity for it. The capacity turned me on.

All that spam you get is true, boys—size matters, so I’m easy when it comes to capacity. And Jack? He’s larger than life. Except when he’s so small you need tweezers to find him.

But that’s good too. I glory in not knowing from one page to the next if he’ll be the perfect combination of edgy-sweetness or some self-absorbed bastard you’d tell your best-friend to kick-the-fuck-out. Jack’s my literary drug. Crash hard in this chapter, soar breathless through the next, aching for more imagined capacity.