The Protests I Never Voiced This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

Liquefied snow seeped through the silk, but I couldn’t find enough emotion within me to mind. The sky above was unfeeling, slate grey atmospheric apathy. The skies slumped as your hand crept closer to mine, and I couldn’t help but wonder if the clouds gave up their individuality that afternoon, conceding to form one solid, indefinite mass of utter nothingness… And that is when, in the straight-to-DVD movie they make of my life, I leap from the ground, full of righteous indignation and feminine grace, to scream eloquently at your face that I am a conscious, breathing woman full of hopes and dreams, not your slave to bend and break on a whim.

But this isn’t Lifetime and I’m not Kristy Swanson, so I bite my lip and laugh at your joke as your hand lingers on my hand before slowly moving towards my belt.





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