Flash fiction: visible

Here’s Beau and Annie from my novel Storm Season, celebrating transgender day of visibility.


Beau’s eyes are heavy. His body is stretched and easy between his sheets, warm with last night’s memories. “Most gorgeous,” Annie had said over and over. “My handsome love.” Her mouth and hands had repeated those words against his skin; her hair had dropped forward in a dark sheet as she’d pinned him to the mattress with sweet, certain eyes.

It’s far too early wake up. With a suppressed groan that sounds less glamorous than he’d like, Beau rolls closer to Annie. He’ll bury himself in her soft body and lie there, warm and happy and loved and halfway between sleep and waking.

Annie’s not there. He pats the space he thinks of as hers. It’s warm. She’s still not there.

It takes effort to open his eyes. He squeezes them tight and tries again. He blinks at the ceiling. Annie’s hung a huge trans flag over his bed. Another one’s draped across the window.

The bedroom door swings open. Annie’s holding a tray. Her white t-shirt is tight around her belly and barely covers her ass. “You’re awake!”

“No,” Beau says.

Annie smiles that bright Annie smile she seems to be able to find whatever the time of day. “Happy Transgender Day of Visibility!”

“Yep, got that. Thanks for the flags.”

Annie bends to place the tray on the floor. “I’ve made breakfast,” she says. “But first I thought we could celebrate in private.”

“Pretty sure the point of visibility is public.”

“You’ve been public all week, and you can do that again later. The panel, the party. Be as out and proud as you are. Right now it’s 9am.”

Beau groans and closes his eyes.

The bed sinks as Annie climbs in. “And I want you to know that you are visible to me.” Beau opens his eyes again. She shakes her head. “You know what I mean. I see you, and I love you.”

“I know what you mean,” he says. “Come here.” The light is hazy purple as she complies.

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