by Louise Yeiser

How does a person bridge a one-foot height difference? I wondered. He stepped back and leaned down. Oh, that’s how. He tasted like cherry pie, while his mustache felt like feathers. The room paused, so I could study his eyelashes and memorize the curve of his cheek against my skin. My life has been hopeful hell ever since.


Louise Yeiser wants to know the end at the beginning.