By Kelsey Sorge
I’m sorry that I bought you an atlas for your birthday, but it was only because you’ve never been to the west coast and I’ve never been more in love with someone’s bones. It’s not a metaphor. I won’t wax poetic on traversing your mountains and valleys and verdant forests. All I’m trying to say is at the end of every sea, every road, there is you.
Kelsey Sorge’s work has appeared in Right Hand Pointing and Thought Catalog.