Her feathers clogged the shower drain, and the smell of unsavory meats cooked over chemical fires drifted from her room. She screamed profanity sometimes, as if afflicted with Tourette’s, but with obvious glee. I occasionally found drowned mice in the coffeemaker.Even so, I’d had worse roommates, during college when I shared a house with three boys who liked to try to catch me naked in the bathroom (though I wasn’t as beautiful back then as I eventually became). The harpy seemed content with our living situation, too. It is in the nature of her kind to roost, if not to nest. Besides, I loved the harpy. I always loved the fact of her, and sometimes, when she was in her pleasanter moods, I even loved the particularity of her. ***I met Jocelyn at a dyke bar in the city. She had clearly never been in such a place before, smiling awkwardly, dressed in glittery club-clothes that didn’t seem to fit quite right; I later learned that no clothes hung on her properly, that she always seemed ill-attired, that she only looked comfortable when she was naked.I knew she would never approach me, or anyone else, not tonight.
What do You think about Hart & Boot & Other Stories?
