Almost no sound came out when he opened his small mouth. We touched his head, we told him we loved him. He died a week later while we were back at school navigating doomed relationships, grueling class schedules. But we never told him he wasn’t a mistake, and we regret that, still. He lay there, tucked behind us, quietly, feebly, nearing his end. All we could do was give our warmth. All we could do was be warm.
The piece features incredible illustrations by John Vestevich (see a sample below!). Plus, there’s audio of me reading the piece at the top of the story page, in case you care to hear this Midwest boy prattle on about thylacines and giant turtles and more. Eep!
I’m really so humbled—decomP has been a white whale journal of mine for some time. Thanks, Jason, for giving this piece a home.
