Fungible Love, 1986


By Sean D. Layton

You took my hand, and we slipped away from Karen’s party like we’d known each other forever.

Later, I scribbled down my number, then a lingering, predawn kiss at your front door.

All week I lived on memories. Brown, pliable curves and wine-dark nipples stiffening under the brush of my fingertips. My phone sat stubbornly silent.

On Wednesday, your dusty pickup pulled up to Karen’s.

Streaming sunlight turned your sundress to gossamer revealing the silhouette of your secrets. Your surprised smile was frayed, your eyes anxiously pleading as some guy touched the small of your back, then shook my hand.

14 thoughts on “Fungible Love, 1986

    1. Thanks! After I submitted it, I was filled with self-doubt and rewrote it and submitted the new draft and asked them to substitute it. That didn’t happen and I actually like this version now that I see it on screen — hope they don’t accidentally post the second one as well!

      Liked by 1 person

  1. Brilliant, Sean!! I want more (please, sir)!!!

    Seriously, my heart fell into my stomach with that last line. Utter disappointment.


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