Lucretia succeeded and was left, jeans ripped open, passed out in an unused corridor of a parking lot. She wasn’t upset about that or how it had happened, not really. She knew now her secret desires for women were real. But she also had confirmed something else. The impenetrable darkness was growing stronger.

The coffee had grown cold in her hands and she saw herself in the reflection of the window ahead of her. The girl staring back at her appeared worn, tired, and old. The folly of youth was behind her, and she recognized it in an instant. She felt haunted as the image fragments began to combine and form sequences. Last night had confirmed the sensation of a man was not new to her, but something long repressed and forgotten.

To begin a self-analysis was more than she could bear. Suddenly the hum of the fluorescent lights seemed to once again spotlight her, leaving her open for psychological hypothesis for any who fancied taking a stab.…

Lucretia pushed back her stool and ran out of the café, down the street and through the puddles. On the move again, she felt safer. There was an array of visual distractions to keep her mind firmly planted in the present. But she was losing the battle. She felt it as sure as the rain hitting her forehead.

As a child, the victim of some man, pierced, bloodied, and broken. How then to build on the ideology of being a pure, created being who did not choose a sexuality but was born with it, encoded as sure as her eyes were brown.

No, the certainty that she was damaged goods changed everything. How could she trust herself at all if she’d hidden this vital piece of information for so long? She was in battle with herself, thick with espionage and psychological warfare.

Lucretia turned into an alley. The rain hit the lids of the dumpsters like timpani drums and did little to cleanse the putrid smell from the air. Grabbing the lowest rung on a fire escape ladder, she hauled herself up with gritted teeth. Hand over hand until her feet found the bottom rung. She climbed and the gray sky blinded her as it continued its merciless downpour on the city. Reaching the top, Lucretia heaved herself over the brick wall and onto the tin-paneled roof. The rain beat a staccato rhythm on the tin that for all the world sounded like the clash of Titans. She looked around at her city, as it seemed to sink into itself under the dark sky.

The yarn ran quickly over the shears, the last remaining fibers quickly splitting. Without ceremony, Lucretia climbed onto the ledge and stepped off with a single thought.… Anywhere but here.

AND SOON she would be.

Mating Season