Guy Mankowski

The two of us. I rolled it around on my tongue. You pressed your hand against the base of my spine and a tingle reached from there, knifing up through my body, and glistened around my cheekbones as we began to step inside.

But the look you gave me suggested that with me at your side, for the first time you did not feel like an alien in this place.

Dark, dusty, and littered with half-buried skeletons.

The wind was blowing hard against my back and it was inevitable that soon I would be pushed off the edge. But I wanted to choose the moment when that happened, and only once I had worked out how best to fall.

That generous sprinkling of promising moments was the glitter that would soon illuminate our relationship.