At my sister’s wedding, my parents demanded i hand…

me, lights beginning to glow in the dusk.

People had asked if I regretted it. If I wished I had just signed the paper, kept the peace, avoided the spectacle.

But peace bought with self-betrayal isn’t peace. It’s surrender.

My grandmother knew that. She knew they would come for me eventually. Not for love, but for what I had, what I had built, what I represented continue reading …