π An exclusive confession from the Retreat, filed anonymously (but the lipstick on the envelope matched Anjelikka’s brand)
It started as these things do with a slow dance, a missing shoe, and a glow that wasn’t from the candles.
He called himself "Mike", but only because "⁂¤Ο∴" was hard for humans to pronounce over breakfast.
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| My second atmosphere began today |
He appeared one night at the Basement Club, right as DJ Laura dropped that deep remix of “Espresso Macchiato.”He asked, “Do you believe in second atmospheres?”I thought he meant chances. He meant entire weather systems on other planets.
THE WEDDING:
Officiated by the chapel cat, who got ordained online and brought his own fog machine.
Held at the cemetery chapel, beneath a confused eagle and a silent jukebox.
The guests were:
Rachel and Casey (dancing)
The Moth (naked, hiding)
Dr. Parallax (weeping?)
Dandy livestreaming with a filter called “Pastel Devotion”
and numerous aliens floating above us.
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| I do, I am not sure what he said... |
It vibrated when I lied.
I gave him a heart.
It blinked pink whenever I remembered home.
Time perception: He thought I was cheating after I took a nap. For him, naps = 3 lunar years.
The honeymoon:
Location: inside a shifting asteroid that played early Motown.
Side effect: I still smell like cinnamon when I'm nervous.
WHY I STAYED:
Because no human ever looked at me like a constellation map.
Because he doesn’t speak in “I love you,”
He speaks in reflections, echoes, and perfectly brewed silence.
Because I once asked him,
“Why me?”
And he said,
“You weren’t afraid when I glitched. That’s love.”
Because he doesn’t speak in “I love you,”
He speaks in reflections, echoes, and perfectly brewed silence.
Because I once asked him,
“Why me?”
And he said,
“You weren’t afraid when I glitched. That’s love.”
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| He wore a black bow tie |
The mushrooms in Erma’s garden sing lullabies now.
The jukebox hiccups in our song’s rhythm.
Shayth’rien said our firstborn will be “mostly carbon-based… probably.”
So yes.
I married an alien.
He still doesn’t understand sarcasm.
I still don’t understand fifth-dimensional origami.
But every morning he hums at my coffee.
And every night, he watches my dreams to make sure they arrive safely.
Isn’t that what love is?
Something strange,
a little glowing,
and completely ours.
He still doesn’t understand sarcasm.
I still don’t understand fifth-dimensional origami.
But every morning he hums at my coffee.
And every night, he watches my dreams to make sure they arrive safely.
Isn’t that what love is?
Something strange,
a little glowing,
and completely ours.
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| "⁂¤Ο∴" and me |
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