“What a delicious meal we have made, full of things and places. A bevy of reality spread forth on our plate, salivating those who can process, stomach, digest the unfathomable.
“We give our thanks to the bread of ancient gods, to those who will give us our daily hope and despair, in equal measure so we might know the meaning of our own sins. So we might know the taste of our own successes.
“Let us, as we do, feel a connection to ourselves, in every version of reality that we persist upon.”
“Uh, yeah, cool,” Howard said, looking up from prayer. “That’s a very different grace than what we say at my house.”
His boyfriend’s mother looked at him, her eyes cheery red and her fangs pushing out from her lips. “Oh, yeah, it’s an old family tradition.”
Special thanks to: Melissa Potter
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