My friend Gina force-feeds me crackers while I’m in hysterics, riding the climax of a bad mushroom trip. Banging down our door is the man I’ve been hooking up with. He’s parked my Subaru on the grass, passenger door ajar. I use the word “man” because he is 36 and I am 21. I use the word “banging” because we are hiding from him and what he might do if he gets inside. I use the word “ajar” because I jumped out and didn’t look back. Gina checks the porch and I sit, laughing harder than I’ve ever laughed before.
Tayler Hanxi Bunge is a queer, adopted Chinese-American writer digital nomading all over the place with roots in LA, Denver, and Philadelphia. Find Tayler at taylerbunge.com.