The play went great. Which is to say, it went mostly great. Because right in scene seven, Scotty Anderson was looking at me with his nice, sincere look, saying, “People are not so dreadful when you know them,” and I didn’t believe a word of it. The Sprite, and the touch at the door, the kiss didn’t mean anything at all. So I stood up, without a limp, and walked offstage, outside through the backstage exit, and sat behind the dumpster. Scotty Anderson came outside looking for me. I heard him slipping around on his fancy shoes, cussing. I tried thinking of the women in the pornos. I wanted to confront Scotty, to really ream him out, to be bold and sexy and powerful. But it didn’t seem real either.

I don't read many stories online that really blow my mind. "Just Like Normal Girls" by Kati Bambrick is an exception. [at Identity Theory]


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