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Living alone, anxious, and between thin walls, you're used to the unease of strange nighttime sounds. Piper water runs behind your headboard and floorboards creak under midnight visitors. No pets allowed, but dogs would bark all the same. An apartment building symphony.
You're just as used to ambient interruptions. Distant arguments, singing, car horns. But these are removed, muffled in concrete. Tonight, sounds are close. Loud enough to wake you up: the clumsy rustling of something lost. Hard to rationalize as outside the room.
You pull yourself from the pillow and push off the edge of the mattress, peeking around the screen dividing your bed from your kitchen. You can't quite see the couch, but you can see the [[light from the bathroom.]]
"Carter?"At twenty-four, you've been a woman for some years now. April, now, but you knew that from the month of your birth. At-long-last never leaves you. You do your best to ignore the ghost of your teen years. These, too, never leave you. You think growing up must be easier for others. With no way to confirm this, you take comfort thinking that it might not be.
Two hours until he arrives, but the bus should only take one to catch him.
In the mirror, it's [[your face]], [[your shoulders]], [[your hands]], [[your eyes]], [[your chest]] — your body turns to you.
<<set $face to false>>
<<set $shoulders to false>>
<<set $hands to false>>
<<set $youreyes to false>>
<<set $chest to false>>Sometimes, you see your face and surprise yourself with newfound cuteness. Though it's been years since you first noticed it, the novelty of pride is still there.
Today isn't one of those days. Really, most aren't. That you stayed up cleaning your apartment is plain in the shadows under your eyes. That you haven't shaved in a day is plain in the shadows on your chin.
You do your best to shake off [[the mirror.]]
<<set $face to true>>Old TVs consume rooms with high-pitched frequencies. You're reminded of this in moments where you hate yourself. You can hate yourself for being stuck in a room with a TV from thirty years ago just as easily as you can for having man shoulders. Stuck no matter what.
You know it's dys-something, irrational, and once you know you're irrational it's hard to be anything else. Who can you trust when you can't trust yourself? Facts as broad as bone, you hate that perception alone can make you hate at all.
You do your best to shake off [[the mirror.]]
<<set $shoulders to true>>You learned to hate your hands from what you read online, adopted tools for scrutinizing knuckle size and wrist width. This is something you don't admit to many people, worried they will make unlearning seem easier than it is.
Your nails are uneven, a product of years of nervous biting. A bad habit, you know, but not one anyone could ever explain out of you. The feeling of the keratin giving way beneath your teeth never lost its appeal. A necessary expulsion of energy, you figure.
You do your best to shake off [[the mirror.]]
<<set $hands to true>>Is it true, and alright, that women can wish their breasts were bigger? You are a woman, you tell yourself, and you wish your breasts were bigger. So.
The things you tell yourself struggle for confidence. If you have to say it to make it true, then how could it be? One plus one is two. "I'm a woman, now."
You do your best to shake off [[the mirror.]]
<<set $chest to true>><b>You're chatting with a random stranger. Say Hi!</b>
You both like furry.
<span style="color:red">Stranger:</span> <<linkappend "asfo?" t8n>>
<span style="color:blue">You:</span> 18 f bat bi ^.^
<span style="color:red">Stranger:</span> 26 m tiger straight
<span style="color:red">Stranger:</span> how are you doing <<linkappend "this evening?" t8n>>
<span style="color:blue">You:</span> im okay, its late where i am so im kinda sleepy >.<
<span style="color:blue">You:</span> u?
<span style="color:red">Stranger:</span> *gestures to my massive cock* i'm horny >:)
<<linkreplace "Stop" t8n>><<linkreplace "Really?" t8n>><b>You have disconnected.</b>
[[New|internet2]]<</linkreplace>><</linkreplace>>
<</linkappend>><</linkappend>>Sixteen, gay, and confused, you spend your evenings lying on [[the internet.]]<b>You're chatting with a random stranger. Say Hi!</b>
You both like furry.
<span style="color:blue">You:</span> hi!
<span style="color:red">Stranger:</span> Hey
<span style="color:blue">You:</span> how are u?
<span style="color:red">Stranger:</span> I've been kind of having <<linkappend "a day" t8n>>
<span style="color:blue">You:</span> a day?
<span style="color:red">Stranger:</span> Like in a bad way
<span style="color:blue">You:</span> oh man, im sorry :(
<span style="color:red">Stranger:</span> Eh, it's whatever
<span style="color:red">Stranger:</span> <<linkappend "Asfo, btw?" t8n>>
<span style="color:blue">You:</span> oh uh, 22 f bat bi
<span style="color:red">Stranger:</span> 19 m bull straight
<span style="color:red">Stranger:</span> ref: [[https://pawhost.org/r7ygl2|bull ref]]
<</linkappend>><</linkappend>><b>You're chatting with a random stranger. Say Hi!</b>
We couldn't find anyone who shares interests with you, so we matched you with a random stranger. Try adding more interests!
<span style="color:red">Stranger:</span> my name is marie, i am 18
<span style="color:red">Stranger:</span> do u want pics of me?
<span style="color:red">Stranger:</span> please click! girl-camss.com/XyP84il
<<linkreplace "Stop" t8n>><<linkreplace "Really?" t8n>><b>You have disconnected.</b>
[[New|interlude]]<</linkreplace>><</linkreplace>><b>You're chatting with a random stranger. Say Hi!</b>
You both like furry.
<span style="color:blue">You:</span> hi ^.^
<span style="color:red">Stranger:</span> Howdy
<span style="color:blue">You:</span> how are u?
<span style="color:red">Stranger:</span> I'm good!
<span style="color:red">Stranger:</span> <<linkappend "You?" t8n>>
<span style="color:blue">You:</span> im okay
<span style="color:blue">You:</span> tired lol
<span style="color:blue">You:</span> im on cst so its like
<span style="color:blue">You:</span> almost 2am
<span style="color:red">Stranger:</span> That's rough
<span style="color:red">Stranger:</span> What're you on here for?
<span style="color:blue">You:</span> just for someone to talk to or maybe rp with
<span style="color:blue">You:</span> lots of creeps on here though ;-;
<span style="color:red">Stranger:</span> Oof yeah people on here can be [[weird|internet5]]<</linkappend>><span style="color:blue">You:</span> it *is* the furry tag i guess lol
<span style="color:red">Stranger:</span> Lmao yeah
<span style="color:red">Stranger:</span> Speaking of, <<linkappend "asfo?" t8n>>
<span style="color:blue">You:</span> lol
<span style="color:blue">You:</span> 22 f bat bi
<span style="color:blue">You:</span> u?
<span style="color:red">Stranger:</span> [[17|internet6]] M wolf gay
<</linkappend>><span style="color:blue">You:</span> oh uh
<span style="color:blue">You:</span> im actually 16
<span style="color:blue">You:</span> lots of adults leave when i say that though
<span style="color:blue">You:</span> or their weird to me
<span style="color:red">Stranger:</span> Ah yeah I get that
<span style="color:blue">You:</span> *theyre
<span style="color:red">Stranger:</span> Most people get on here for the same reasons lol, but I'm gay and <<linkappend "you're a girl lmao" t8n>>
<span style="color:blue">You:</span> yeah lol
<span style="color:blue">You:</span> u seem cool tho
<span style="color:red">Stranger:</span> You do too!!
<span style="color:red">Stranger:</span> Would you wanna [[keep talking somewhere else?|internet7]] Like some other app or something
<</linkappend>><span style="color:blue">You:</span> oh sure
<span style="color:blue">You:</span> im coconutfactoryy#0903 on discord?
<span style="color:red">Stranger:</span> Sick I'll add you!
<span style="color:red">Stranger:</span> My un is kinda silly, blazewolf222 lmao
<span style="color:blue">You:</span> i got ur message!
<span style="color:blue">You:</span> ill see you on there i guess 0_0
<<linkreplace "Stop" t8n>>[[Really?]]<</linkreplace>>You've seen enough pictures of muscular animal men to know the score at this point, but you think this may be the first bull. Your screen flashes dark with the imageboard. Why do sites like this feel the need to look suspicious?
The bull is the same type of salacious they all are. He's cut, shirtless, and his shorts are tighter than they should be. Black fur and red eyes, the exact kind of badass that Omegle men find cool. The talent of the artist is obvious.
Enough, you decide. [[You close the tab.|internet2.5]]<span style="color:red">Stranger:</span> You got ref?
<span style="color:blue">You:</span> no sorry
<b>Stranger has disconnected.</b>
[[New|internet3]]You've always liked the color of your eyes, but you can't look at them without finding the rest of you. "Windows to the soul", or whatever, there was something in your eyes that was you more than the rest of your body.
A friend once described the sensation of getting-outside-yourself through a self-staring contest. There's no way to win a game like that, with yourself the object of self-reflection. Still, you find yourself compelled to play more often than you'd ever admit. At least, then, the spiral could be your choice.
You do your best to shake off [[the mirror.]]
<<set $youreyes to true>>You try always to dress for yourself, but you never do. Today, you're dressing for Carter. Internet friends have an anticipation to them; if you dress cool enough, you have one less thing to worry about. It isn't enough for him to have asked to see you. There's still something, you feel, to prove.
You don't dress, however, such that you could be noticed on the bus. It won't be crowded, not midday. But you know from watching passengers yourself that people do, indeed, watch. You try not to give them a reason to. Loose black jeans, a belt with more holes than necessary, and a shirt for some furry hyperpop thing you knew he liked. It pains you to forego a beanie, but summertime calls.
You sit in the back of the bus. There's no need to sit near the doors when your stop is so far off, after all. [[An older man]] sits next to his groceries on a seat behind the driver, your lone companion at the start. Along the way, [[a pack of teenagers]] get on, make noise. [[A woman]] talks loudly towards nothing. Between starts and stops, you notice passengers sway like ocean documentary kelp.
<<set $oldman to false>>
<<set $teens to false>>
<<set $woman to false>>Old people are a constant on public transportation, especially for you, someone who freelances and so has no consistent hours. Daytime creatures.
It's possible you've seen this old man before. Much of the elderly busgoing population is habitual, riding the bus at the same times every day for years. You wonder if this man has been going to his grocery store for just as long. His shopping list could even be the same. Maybe you'll have these habits, too, when you're old.
Before you know it, you're at [[the airport.]]
<<set $oldman to true>>It's someone's birthday, or at least one of these kids is wearing a birthday hat. It could be some trend you missed, but you think that's unlikely with the amount of time you spend online. Since when did kids get so loud?
They get off somewhere downtown. A bunch of them yell "thank you" towards the bus driver. Maybe you shouldn't be too hard on them.
Before you know it, you're at [[the airport.]]
<<set $teens to true>>Sea of a crowd — the hazed confusion of airports is inescapable. Straight lines to get lost in, you're thankful you're only here to find your friend.
On the bus ride over, you had the foresight to ask [[what he'd been wearing.]]Standing up, it's clear that Carter is no longer on the couch. In the bathroom, then, you think. But there's [[a shadow]] in the bathroom door, large, and decidedly un-Carter.
From the bathroom: inhuman noises. Something hard tapping against stainless steel and soft whimpering. The shadow takes on definition: elbows bent thinly and closely, and a long tail draped towards the floor. A trick of walls and doors keeps you from seeing into the bathroom, but you already know it can't be human.
Approaching, you discover a dog appraising itself in the mirror. Paws up and resting on the edge of the sink, like it's about to ask for something. You stop; what was a dog at first is now clearly a wolf. With a clear object to fear, your body knows to tense itself.
You see its face in the mirror: [[grey]], with slanted snout and yellow [[eyes.]] Reflected, [[you]] are there, too.
<<set $grey to false>>
<<set $eyes to false>>
<<set $you to false>>You count quickly the number of times you've given an internet stranger a way to contact you, then count the same number of regrets. But it's late. Curled in bed, phone light in your eyes, and happy you're believed, you don't take the time to wonder if you've made a mistake.
The screen goes black. You can see your outline in the glass: teenaged, boyish and wishing you were neither.
The [[insides of your eyelids|tomorrow]] let the hallway light through, red.<b>blazewolf222</b> <span style="font-size:12px">Today at 2:37 AM</span>
  <<linkappend "Hey!" t8n>>
<b>coconutfactoryy</b> <span style="font-size:12px">Today at 9:03 AM</span>
  hi!
  sorry for not responding i got sleepy
<b>blazewolf222</b> <span style="font-size:12px">Today at 9:03AM</span>
  No worries! I thought for a sec you might have dodged me though, I'm glad you didn't
  I just realized we didn't do names! I'm <<linkappend "Carter" t8n>>
<b>coconutfactoryy</b> <span style="font-size:12px">Today at 9:07 AM</span>
  oh you can call me April
  carter is a nice name!
<b>blazewolf222</b> <span style="font-size:12px">Today at 9:08AM</span>
  I think April is a nice name, [[too! :)|:)]]
<</linkappend>>
<</linkappend>>The wolf is the color of stormclouds or smoke. Its fur ruffled, you remember reading that wolves can have manes, too.
The fur in its neck shifts with steps, twisting towards you. Firm and fearful heartbeat drives blood under skin, turns you pink. Does [[the wolf|Pushed away]] consider your colors, too?
<<set $grey to true>>
Your father once told you that dogs don't cry, but you were sure of the tears in your beagle's eyes. "That's how they keep their eyes clean," he said. If you hadn't known this, if you didn't know better, you might think that this wolf is crying. It seems painterly, and the mirror makes it a solemn portrait.
It turns to you. Suddenly, it's not alone, and, suddenly, you both know this. Pupils wide — just as suddenly, you are together. And there is a [[wolf|Pushed away]] in your home.
<<set $eyes to true>>You catch yourself in the mirrored doorframe, appearing just past the animal in front of you. You realize your pajamas don't fit before you think such a thought is ill-timed. It would be more fitting to note that the wolf's ears are relaxed, you think.
Too quickly, the wolf notices mirror-you, then turns to you-you. Eyes wide, pupils big. Once in the mirror, now you are real with [[it.|Pushed away]]
<<set $you to true>>Its paws drop from the sink with a thunk and slink slowly but surely to you. Paw and paw after paw and paw. Your feet slide backwards, match its pace. Step after paw after step. You know there is only so much apartment, but this does not stop your moving. Paw after step after paw, up against the wall. You put your hands out to stop it. Palms open, eyes closed. Fingers curled. You make them claws.
The familiar wetness of animal nose brushes your hands before it shoves them aside. Refusal. You hear footsteps make distance, thuds directed towards the other wall. Knowing its distance, you feel comfortable opening your eyes.
The wolf's tail swings in time with steps. From behind the wolf, with the intensity of expected death behind you, you think again of Carter. Whatever remains must be the truth: [[this wolf]], now kneading the bathroom carpet with his front paws, must be Carter.<b>coconutfactoryy</b> <span style="font-size:12px">Today at 3:14 PM</span>
  hey
  what r u wearing?
  not in a phone sex way lol
<b>coconutfactoryy</b> <span style="font-size:12px">Today at 3:17 PM</span>
  oh wait ur on a plane and can't text back
  nvm lol
<b>blazewolf222</b> <span style="font-size:12px">Today at 3:20 PM</span>
  Oh I actually do have wifi
  In-flight
  Kinda nuts
  We're living in the future fr
  I have an [[orange hoodie]] on? That's probably the most identifiable thing about me
<<set $orangeVisits to 0>>
<<set $orange1 to false>>
<<set $orange2 to false>>
<<set $orange3 to false>>
<<set $orange4 to false>>
<<if $orangeVisits == 0>>At five minutes past 4PM, you look up from your phone to find him. <<elseif $orangeVisits == 1>>At six minutes past 4PM, you wonder if you should have worn your glasses today. <<elseif $orangeVisits == 2>>At seven minutes past 4PM, you tap your foot to stay in the moment. <<elseif $orangeVisits == 3>>At eight minutes past 4PM, you start to question if you ever knew the color orange. <<elseif $orangeVisits >= 4>>At nine minutes past 4PM, you notice the buzzing of [[your phone]].<</if>>
In the crowd, there's <<if $orange1 == false>>[[orange|orange1]]<<else>> orange<</if>>, <<if $orange2 == false>>[[orange|orange2]]<<else>> orange<</if>>, <<if $orange3 == false>>[[orange|orange3]]<<else>> orange<</if>>, <<if $orange4 == false>>[[orange.|orange4]]<<else>> orange<</if>>You follow signs for coffee shops and watch for waving hands, wondering why airports never seem to have maps. [[Your phone]], again.<b>blazewolf222</b> <span style="font-size:12px">Today at 4:08 PM</span>
  My arm got tired T_T
  The shop has a yellow sign that says [[Coffee Shop]]...kind of a suspicious name lolStepping between your phone and the airport, you look for a yellow sign and an orange man. He's a dental hygienist, you remember, and you forgot to floss your teeth this morning. Is that something someone can notice? If they're a professional.
"Coffee Shop", written in serif capitals, giving off the soft glow of tube lights through plastic. Under the "C", a pillar, and next to the pillar, an orange bag of a garment over the slim frame of a man. The moment thrills. It can't be anyone but Carter — you would have noticed another store this bland, and another hoodie this bright. Still, your heart beats like you're about to approach a stranger.
"Hi, um, Carter?"
The man looks back at you and smiles. "Oh! April?"
"Yeah." He smiles again, bigger. [[White teeth.]] "It's nice to see you!" Sitting next to someone, you are aware of how they move without looking at them. You feel his arms crossed beside you through your glanced shoulders, his eyes fixed on the rolling bag pinned between his legs. It's hard to know how to talk to friends in the presence of strangers. Luckily, you'd saved your best questions.
"So, what brings you to Chicago?" Carter looks up from pondering his knees.
"My, um, boyfriend lives in Rockford, so that's why I'm in Illinois," he pulls his backpack to his chest and his mouth makes a shape betraying that it might be love. "As for Chicago, this was the cheapest airport. And, also, you're here!"
"Long distance, huh? Have you met before?" Carter shakes his head. His hair shags a second behind his nose.
"Nope. But we've been dating for three months online."
"Oh. Gay shit."
"Yeah dude. [[Gay shit.]]"
The road swings in space between the heads of sitting strangers.Your keys make metal noise as you slide them back into your pocket. Using them next to Carter, you wonder for the first time how your keychain got so cluttered when you only live here.
"So, this is my place." You open the door and gesture like a magician, rehearsed, head bowed. "After you." He catches on awkwardly, and claps.
"Thank you, thank you. I'm [[excited to be here.]]"
Your studio isn't much, and even less to share, but you're happy to all the same for a visitor. Shuffling through the two-foot gap between your couch and desk, you turn around.
"Here are your accommodations. Um," you grab a pillow from your bed, crudely divided from the rest of the room by a folding wall, and toss it onto the couch. "Are you hungry?"
"[[Absolutely.]]"
<<set $excited to false>>
<<set $absolutely to false>>Tension runs through you to the bathroom door. Take care to keep noise low. Carter wouldn't eat you, at least not normally, but there's no harm in trying to keep things easy. You sit on the couch, lowering yourself with soft pressure on the left side armrest. Seated, you begin to pat in a rhythm of nines. A habit you picked up from time spent with an ex-girlfriend's cat.
"Hey, Carter? Do you want to come out here?" Your register slips sweet, a type of voice reserved for animals and small cousins.
He perks up at the name. Surprised to be recognized, maybe.
"It's okay. I promise."
He pushes up and shakes his shoulders, barking once on the fourth beat of your rhythm. [[Long nails]] on polypropylene fibers stop just short of clicks. He shags towards the couch.Is it weird to want to pet your friend? If he's a dog, and that dog is a wolf, but that wolf is a person. If there weren't a person in there: no hesitation. In difference, you find more difference. All but indifferent.
He falls asleep next to you, after you put something on the TV to try to fascimilate normalcy. You've thought before that love is to sit quiet and comfy in a room with another being.
In his sleep, you get your first good look at him. As good a look as you can get in the shifting light of action movie television, anyways. His [[fur|fur.]] is matted, darker around his eyes. His size was obvious from your encounter, but even more apparent now, taking up enough of your couch for you to need to curl up against the armrest. His [[ears|ears.]] point up while sleeping, too. Ready for something. He lays with his [[paws|paws.]] crossed, claws sharp.
Dogs never look comfortable when they sleep — they don't have the bodies for it. Crumpled aside with legs straight and head not quite flat to the ground. At least, you were never a side sleeper.
<<set $fur to false>>
<<set $ears to false>>
<<set $paws to false>>Fur on most animals reminds you of brushstrokes down their back. Extending the metaphor, this wolf is impressionist, messier to your eye but just as deep. Something in you twitches your hand. You wished that you could pull out the mats for him, something to make it easier. Were those tears in his eyes, in the mirror?
<<if $ears is true and $paws is true>> There must be something wrong with you. The sun is rising. You know you should go to [[bed.]] <<elseif $ears is true>> Lingering in the hum of the TV: his [[paws.]] <<elseif $paws is true>> Lingering in the hum of the TV: his [[ears.]] <<else>> Lingering in the hum of the TV: his [[ears|ears.]], his [[paws.]]<</if>>
<<set $fur to true>>Ears are to dogs what hair is to humans. At least, you think so. For the first time, you see that one of his ears flops just slightly lower than the other. A young man's haircut, almost groomed. You stop yourself from reaching out to fix it for him.
<<if $fur is true and $paws is true>> There must be something wrong with you. The sun is rising. You know you should go to [[bed.]] <<elseif $fur is true>> Lingering in the noise of the TV: his [[paws.]] <<elseif $paws is true>> Lingering in the noise of the TV: his [[fur.]] <<else>> Lingering in the noise of the TV: his [[fur|fur.]], his [[paws.]]<</if>>
<<set $ears to true>>Paw beans are so frequently abstracted in drawing that seeing them be real is always a surprise. Through either socially-engineered desire, or lizard-brained instinct, your nerves itch to poke them.
<<if $ears is true and $fur is true>> There must be something wrong with you. The sun is rising. You know you should go to [[bed.]] <<elseif $fur is true>> Lingering in the reds, greens, and blues of the TV: his [[ears.]] <<elseif $ears is true>> Lingering in the reds, greens, and blues of the TV: his [[fur.]] <<else>> Lingering in the reds, greens, and blues of the TV: his [[fur|fur.]], his [[ears.]]<</if>>
<<set $paws to true>>Dog snores take you to sleep like the whir of a motor boat.
When you wake, the sky is setting. This would feel normal if the sun weren't rising when you fell asleep. Groggy, you repeat your wakeup from just hours before. Part of you is sure you'd dreamed, that the wolf didn't appear in your house. But you remember a full movie in full, flashing colors — shocking clarity for a dream. Maybe that part of you wasn't sure, but wishing.
You peek, again, around the screen dividing your bed from your kitchen. You can't quite see [[the couch.]]<b>blazewolf222</b> <span style="font-size:12px">Today at 4:04 PM</span>
  Hey I'm by an elevator. There's a [[coffee shop]] here too
  I'm just gonna stand here and constantly waveIn the early summer, you wish petals would float by your window the way that leaves do in the fall. Anything to tell you that days are passing.
The sun peers in through the blinds. It's time to get up, midday, but lethargy keeps you. A full-length mirror leans on the accordion divider you use to pretend your studio is a house. Morning shambles, constructed from tired bones: you take stock of you. [[Your reflection.|Mirror]]An orange windbreaker, a child, streaks by, mother barrelling behind. You know Carter is older than seven and wouldn't bring his mother, so you turn your attention back to [[the crowd.|orange hoodie]]
<<set $orangeVisits += 1>>
<<set $orange1 to true>>A woman in an orange safety vest passes on one of those cars they drive around the airport. You wonder for the first time what they're for before turning your attention back to [[the crowd.|orange hoodie]]
<<set $orangeVisits += 1>>
<<set $orange2 to true>>You think about the color orange, and if the fruit came before or after the word. Orange, noun. The fruit, the color between red and yellow. Or-ange. Adjective. Being of the hue between yellow and red. You put your spelling bee days behind you, and sift through [[the crowd.|orange hoodie]]
<<set $orangeVisits += 1>>
<<set $orange3 to true>>Blues and greys and greens and whites and reds and blacks fill the space between hands, faces, and the occasional shorts-framed legs, but still no orange. You understand why the colors are so normal. The airport is the last place you'd dress garish.
You wonder if you're even looking at the right [[crowd.|orange hoodie]]
<<set $orangeVisits += 1>>
<<set $orange4 to true>>You remember the bus schedule.
"I think the bus is coming soon. Can we walk?"
"Definitely!" He blinks, and grins slightly different from his previous smile. "Cool shirt."
"Thanks," and you blink, too. "We should go."
Ahead, a sign: a silhouette of a bus and [[an arrow.|The Bus]] A moment to notice that he's already started walking.On the train in the night time dark, you see reflections of you and Carter in a window opposite your seating. Soft rain touches the sides of the car, makes drum noises. Next to Carter, you're aware of how he leans aside asleep. It's clear in the reflection, a picture with just two subjects, and clear in the pressure of a person against your arm.
Online conversations have different friction. Without presence, there is no expectation of speech, and so silence can be default. Talking can be an eventuality, rather than a necessity. Face-to-face silence can be heavy. Gaps between speakers who can't find words. But here, now, there is purposeful, comfortable, shared quiet.
Train tracks move underfoot, and you shake. City lights fly past [[your reflected ghosts.|The End 3]]<style>
.center {
height: 200px;
position: relative;
}
.center p {
margin: 0;
position: absolute;
top: 50%;
left: 50%;
-ms-transform: translate(-50%, -50%);
transform: translate(-50%, -50%);
}
</style>
<div class="center"><center>[[. . .]]</center></div><b>blazewolf222</b> <span style="font-size:12px">02/16/16 at 8:27PM </span>
  Just got [[home|HeadingHome]] from work
  Cold as shit outside today, I almost slipped on a puddle
<b>coconutfactoryy</b> <span style="font-size:12px">12/16/16 at 8:37PM</span>
  how cold was it
  ?
<b>blazewolf222</b> <span style="font-size:12px">02/16/16 at 8:38PM </span>
  28
<b>coconutfactoryy</b> <span style="font-size:12px">12/16/16 at 8:40PM</span>
  you *cannot* tell me 28 degrees is getting to you like this lmaoo
  its like 8 out for me lol
<b>blazewolf222</b> <span style="font-size:12px">02/16/16 at 8:40PM </span>
  Wait where do you even live
  Have we never talked about that?!!
<b>coconutfactoryy</b> <span style="font-size:12px">12/16/16 at 8:40PM</span>
  oh lol im from chicago
<<set $here to true>><b>coconutfactoryy</b> <span style="font-size:12px">06/17/2019 at 11:03 PM</span>
  i told my dad today
  it went okay i think
<b>coconutfactoryy</b> <span style="font-size:12px">06/17/2019 at 11:12 PM</span>
  i don't think he gets it though
  thinking about what he said
  ugh cvkvmdfgneuiogne
<b>coconutfactoryy</b> <span style="font-size:12px">06/18/2019 at 12:23 AM</span>
  and now I cant sleeppp
  idk if this is regret or what but i feel awful
  sorry for messaging so much
<b>blazewolf222</b> <span style="font-size:12px">06/18/2019 at 1:26 AM</span>
  Sorry sorry I was out and didn't see!
  I guess it's good that it went okay? What did he say? I'm sorry it didn't go better :/
<b>coconutfactoryy</b> <span style="font-size:12px">06/18/2019 at 1:27 AM</span>
  i mean he didnt kick me out or anything so maybe i shouldnt complain
  but i think he thinks im just gay or something??
  he told me this weird story about his childhood friend who has a husband
  and then said something about how i shouldnt tell the neighbors
  i just watched like 7 episodes of lucky star lol
  fucking hate living at [[home|the house]]Through the divider between the bed and the kitchen, you hear sizzling. Your nose wakes up later than the rest of you — eggs. Stepping out, you see Carter over the stove. Carton, butter, and salt shaker about. You stop short of speaking first, and hover. The moment where speaking would have been normal slips past your wondering. What is there to say?
Too late. He turns to face you.
"Oh," deer caught in headlights, "hey April." He takes a second to glance back to the stove, like something might be burning. "Good, uh, morning."
"Good morning."
The hard things elude you. Pops and steaming on the stove, Carter turns around. "How do you like your eggs?" He turns back to you, feet unsure where to stand. "And sorry for not asking first."
You shake your head. "You're good. Thanks for making food."
"And your eggs?"
"Over easy, sorry."
Mundane, though you know you both left things unsaid. Soon enough, you're at the counter and are passed a plate. Two [[beautiful eggs.]]<b>blazewolf222</b> <span style="font-size:12px">03/28/2024 at 1:47 PM</span>
  Hey! Long time no see
  I'm gonna be in your city soon (still Chicago, right?)
  I'm doing a visit to IL, could I stay with you for maybe a day or two? Totally cool if not!
<b>coconutfactoryy</b> <span style="font-size:12px">03/28/2024 at 8:33 PM</span>
  oh geez it really has been a long time hasnt it!
  um, yeah ofc you can stay here
  if youre ok sleeping on my couch then yes 😅
  itd be really good to see you
<b>blazewolf222</b> <span style="font-size:12px">03/28/2024 at 2:07 PM</span>
  Yes!! I promise I'll make you [[food|restaurant]] or something
<<set $excited to true>>Over burgers and fries, under heat-lamp-like fast-food fluorescence, you work up the courage to say something about expectations. Eight years of talking, on and off, but Carter still found ways to surprise you.
"I didn't expect you to be so tall, you know," you say like he would. "You always drew your [['sonas]] so short." You hope he knows you're poking fun.
"Did I really? I haven't thought about that in a while," he puts his sandwich, half wrapped, down to shake his hands. Dashing away some invisible grime. Food pushed by a tongue, a bulge in his left cheek. "Am I really //so// tall?"
"Yeah, man. //So//." And he laughs, and swallows.
Food fills gaps in conversation. Silence is most salient between bites, saliva. Fleeting worries that Carter might not like the physical you — you catch yourself laughing a lot, [[stumbling|here]] through inflated conversation.
<<set $here to false>>
<<set $sona to false>><b>blazewolf222</b> <span style="font-size:12px">01/14/2020 at 5:43 PM</span>
  I'm actually pretty good at cooking, not to brag or anything
<b>coconutfactoryy</b> <span style="font-size:12px">01/14/2020 at 6:07 PM</span>
  lol
  im so bad 💀💀
  i usually burn myself on appliances
<b>blazewolf222</b> <span style="font-size:12px">01/14/2020 at 6:14 PM</span>
  No appreciation for the craft!
<b>coconutfactoryy</b> <span style="font-size:12px">01/14/2020 at 6:15 PM</span>
  listen listen
  i appreciate food plenty
  when its [[in my mouth|restaurant]] lol
<<set $absolutely to true>>Carter eats his sunnyside up. He pushes the side of his fork down the radius of the yolk, letting sunrise yellow spill over. These motions are acute to you. Eyes set on any sign that you can talk about the wolf.
Your approach to your eggs is informed by his. Fork on its side, down the radius. Metal on fried whites recalls ice on glass, clearly heard over your discussion of nothing.
"So," you pause — in moments like these, you can feel your heart regret that you're speaking your mind — then start again, "Is that why your, uh, fursona is a wolf? Because...?"
Stainless steel hits ceramic; his fork is down and he takes time to finish chewing, hand over mouth.
"Um, no..." He puts his hand down, rubbing his middle and ring fingers on the palmspace below his thumb. Circles. "Do you remember [[when I went to the ER?]] Like four years ago. I got bit."<style>
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<div class="center"><center>
<span style="font-size:32px">Selves, Wolves</span>
[[Begin|Beginning]]</center></div>You remember your first impression of the wolf, someone who existed in a mirror before growing present. <<if $grey is true>>His fur reminded you of the ethereal greys of clouds and smoke, but only now do you think of him as something solid, like stone.<</if>><<if $eyes is true>>You remember how he looked at himself, but only in retrospect do you notice that his eyes are the same deep brown as Carter's.<</if>><<if $you is true>>You feel vain for noticing yourself in the mirror last night, he was your guest, after all. But he made himself known quickly.<</if>>. With every last-night thought, Carter and the wolf pass into each other, become more the same. You regret ever being scared of him — a wolf who, in his early-afternoon morning, only wanted to make you eggs.
You watch him sleep. Cheekflesh soft against your shoulder, pressed up towards his eye. You want to tell him that it isn't fair, but you know he'll be okay. And you hope he knows through eyes, in hearts: much love, much love, much love.
<center>[[Begin again.|Title]]</center><b>coconutfactoryy</b> <span style="font-size:12px">09/22/2019 at 9:44 PM</span>
  hey! hows it going?
<b>blazewolf222</b> <span style="font-size:12px">09/23/2019 at 2:02 PM</span>
  sorry for going mia
  ive been in the er
  im okay and everything but I just cuoldnt use my pho ne
  typing with oen hand rn sorry for rypos
<b>coconutfactoryy</b> <span style="font-size:12px">09/23/2019 at 11:32 PM</span>
  wait omg do not be sorry!
  are you okay????
<b>blazewolf222</b> <span style="font-size:12px">09/23/2019 at 2:02 PM</span>
  no yeah iam
  dont worry!
  i got bit by some animal
  which sounds bad but [[im actually ok i promise]] my parents are freaking out but the doctors are sayingn ill be ok since we csught it fast
  theyre driving in fromboise tonight"Ever since...well, you know." You follow Carter's eyes down to his yolk, leaking, pooling, half-eaten. "I'd wake up with my sheets all torn up, or halfway across my bedroom in a nest of clothes. I don't know. Part of me thinks I sound crazy but I also know you saw it too. And, um, no one else knows, I don't think. You're the only one who's seen it."
Unsure what to say, you watch him eat. Small bites, like he's full already.
"I'm just not sure what, like, there is to do about it, you know? It's not like I'm hurting people when it happens. It just makes me feel wrong." He chuckles the way you do when someone asks you questions you don't expect. "I don't know why it's so easy to tell you this. I'm sorry."
There's a look people get when they want to stop talking but can't. You know it in the muscles on your face, and see it in [[small wrinkles around Carter's eyes.]] You stop yourself from saying you know what it's like but you take it to heart that you do.
You dare to speak.
"It doesn't sound easy."
"It's, um, not," he laughs more. "It's not. But it's not hurting anyone else and it's not hurting me so what does it matter, right?"
"Of course it matters." You sound clinical, and hate yourself for it. You don't mean to dissect his words for the "right" thing to say.
"I don't like being somewhere between me and not-me. I can't control it." You know this feeling, measuring the distance between you and not-you in years and days.
He reaches over to your plate, half an egg still uneaten. "Can I take this for you?" Something about this conversation was done. Your hand goes through the motions of normalcy, even though you want [[more egg.]]You move to help him clean the kitchen.
"Where does this—?"
"Right cabinet, above the sink." Like nothing had ever happened.
From the way Carter looks so intently at his hands scrub your plates, you know he doesn't want to look at you. You know just the same that his aversion comes from a place of worry. Worry about the wolf, worry about what it changes for your image of him. So much is clear in the pronunciation of tendons on the backs of his hands, tense. You hate the weight of inability to meet others' eyes, but you hate just as much the idea of showing Carter that you see him. You know well the fear of being looked at, vulnerable. Like a sheep unguarded. You'd much rather he know that you still care. That you worry.
"What if we went somewhere?" you offer. He's shaking his hands in the air, wicking water to the floor.
"Yes, I'd like that."
And you're out [[the door|The End 1]], again.You worry she's talking to you, at first — speech pointed and eyes committed to something invisible — but then you notice the white plastic in her ears. People who can bring themselves to talk on the phone in public are brave enough, but to talk without the universal signifier of a phone to an ear enshrines that bravery in heaven. Right next to Hercules and the troops.
"I am going to hit this boy with my car. I'm serious." Emphasis on 'hit' and 'car', you feel like you shouldn't be hearing this conversation.
Before you know it, you're at [[the airport.]]
<<set $woman to true>>After eating, you spend a short while looking around your neighborhood. A gallery of unlit neon in closed storefronts and street signs with inconsistent capitalization.
The sleepless day catches up to Carter, and then to you. Out the door, down the street, door and door and [[the bed.]]
"Goodnight."
"G'night."<b>coconutfactoryy</b> <span style="font-size:12px">1/19/16 at 3:19PM</span>
  my neighbor keeps like this crazy bat [[house|HeadingHome]] thing outside
  its kinda scary
  they all come out of it at once
<b>blazewolf222</b> <span style="font-size:12px">1/19/16 at 12:01PM </span>
  Wait so why is your fursona a bat if you think bats are scary?
<b>coconutfactoryy</b> <span style="font-size:12px">1/19/16 at 3:19PM</span>
  its bc theyre scary that my sonas a bat lol
  scary and cute
  fangs!
  they keep their babies in pouches!!
<b>blazewolf222</b> <span style="font-size:12px">1/19/16 at 4:47PM </span>
  Okay :p
<b>coconutfactoryy</b> <span style="font-size:12px">1/19/16 at 4:47PM</span>
  why a wolf then?!!
  if you wanna be sassy about it
  lol
<b>blazewolf222</b> <span style="font-size:12px">1/19/16 at 4:48PM </span>
  Wolves are badass!
  🐺
<<set $sona to true>>Carter falls asleep fast, you notice. You spent the last ten minutes waiting for this, never able to fall asleep without a glass of water but wary of crossing to the couch-side of the room to a sink. After all, for tonight, the couch side is Carter's side. You always had a thing for preserving personal space — yours or others'.
From the sink, you can see him. You know he's not a stranger, technically, his breathing alternatingly inflating and deflating the white blanket. He is, however, strange in your home. So used to living alone, maybe anyone would be just as strange. You hope this is true, wanting badly for online friendship to be real friendship.
Taking care to sip quietly, you finish your drink and get into bed. You drift to [[sleep.|WokenUp]]Overnight, you'd forgotten there were other people in the world besides you and Carter. Stepping outside, directionless and hoping for train-shaped solutions, the truth of other people is clear. Suddenly you think of more to say.
"Have you told your boyfriend?" you pause but realize, "I'm not sure I ever got his name."
Carter stops on the stairs that climb to the platform. He's slightly ahead of you, one foot two steps ahead, the other three. Staggered in the muted glow of old bulbs.
"His name is Clay."
"And have you told him?"
"I'll think about that tomorrow." The platform is just behind the turnstile. You stop just behind the yellow line, place you shouldn't stand. Safety first. "I, um, think I might nap on the train. If that's okay."
"Yeah."
You look down the tracks, and wish you could see [[two lights on the rails.|The End 2]]Between disconnections you sit in precious, reflective seconds. You wait with bitterness borne of robots and too-forward strangers. You know it's bad, but you can't pull yourself from chat rooms. Trying to build yourself somewhere between real and unreal.
At the hands of strange internet men, you're a girl. You don't know that this is what drives you.
[[New text|internet4]] flickers across the screen.