As most of our crew are running around at Gen Con, let me tell you a story.*It Happened to Me.

Aimee

So he’s me, kind of. Better job, better relationship with my — our — mom. Takes selfies and posts photos of his matcha lattes and his wife and their million adopted babies. Gross.


He’s… not married to Katrina, though. And I sort of thought we would be. I mean, I followed the scent of her hair back out of Arcadia. Rolled it around in my mouth like a peppermint as I ran, brisk and clean and full of unkept promises. When I stood in the long saltgrass by the bay to catch my breath on solid ground, real ground, the first thing I did was try to pick its scent up again. I thought I might have missed some dates, I didn’t think I’d be missing years. Well, he didn’t miss those years. He sews his button eyes back on every morning, thinking they’re eyeglasses, and kisses some other woman. She’s cute, I guess, but doesn’t seem like our type. Or maybe ...

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