I pull my knees up and rest my chin on them, still facing the lens. For a while, that’s all I do. Nine becomes 9:30, and I still haven’t moved.
But things are happening inside of me. A strange, reckless flush, like someone struck a match and lit something low in my belly, is rising up and making my head swim. I have jittery energy in the tips of my fingers and my n*****s are oddly strained and peaked. They know something I don’t.
The flush keeps going. It is a wave of heat and it keeps finding new nooks and crannies in my body to suffuse with fire. My breath is coming shorter now and I haven’t even moved. I’m just sitting here on my own bed, knees drawn up, facing a camera the size of a thumb drive, and my entire body is screaming at me.
Because I want him to see me.
Not in the abstrac
