“Any night when Peter was in town, you would see Rebecca walking with him, hand in hand along the river like teenagers in love. They would pause, lo...k at some sight, and then continue on their way. They served as an example that a solid and deep love can be long lasting.”Donald patted the hand of his mother. She nodded to him in appreciation.“Everyone knew of Peter’s passion for fishing. Many a weekend was spent on the river with his wife and son fishing. I think Peter served as a role model as. At first, they really grossed me out, but I got curious, and after I read the first one, I was hooked." She confided in him; her voice low. "What did you think when I showed them to you?" She asked, curious."Well, I was still really disturbed by…you know…us having sex, when you showed me and didn't really get why you wanted me to see it. I started looking over the stories and didn’t get what the big deal was at first, then I went to look at the top-rated stories and I was like…what the fuck. I. So many decisions.The mulberry wonders and envelopes this new one in its appendages. Twigs, rootlets, vines, tentacles, and flowing filaments all conspire and move to touch and, perhaps, transform this new one who bears an intense pain that needs soothing more, much more than the ache of a twisted ankle. Her twisted, broken heart may need healing within the tree's stalwart heart.The mulberry tree is gender fluid. This is its choice as a species and as a figure of myth and monstrosity. It may be. We stood on that platform for a while, admiring the Rocky Mountains as the train whined its way through deep valleys and over high bridges. It was getting quite cold as the afternoon wore on. I noticed you had ever so slightly moved closer to me, just enough to feel the slightest touch of you on my clothes. ‘It’s getting a bit cold, did you want to head inside?’ I asked. Without turning to look at me you moved closer to my side and rested your head on my shoulder. ‘A little longer – it’s so.
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