Love Lights Up the Darkness

That night, for the first time in a year or so, Chisato starts to cry while brushing her teeth.

She barely even realizes it until she hears her mom’s footsteps down the hall. She spits out her toothpaste and tries to wipe her face dry, but her eyes have already gone red and puffy, and she’s breathing in little sobs. It’s too obvious to hide it now.

There’s a knock on the bathroom door. “Chisato? Are you all right? Did something happen?”

Chisato opens the door. “It’s nothing, mom,” she says, with her best embarrassed smile. “I… um… I’m under a lot of stress at school right now, and… well, it’s that time of the month for me, so…”

Her mom doesn’t respond, but her face says she doesn’t quite buy it.



Someone once told Tam that there was nothing sadder in the world than a celibate incubus. He can’t remember who said it, or when. He can’t remember much at all, now. All he has are flashes: he bought a ticket to Vancouver, he was on the plane, he checked into a hotel… and then what? It doesn’t matter.

He might be dying.