From the author: This story first appeared around last year's Valentine's Day, and ironically, it's a love story about a breakup. Also, metaphysics, sculptures, and weird objects showing up in your living room from other dimensions, with offhand cameos from the Beatles and the Eleventh Doctor. This is my queer unabashed love letter to all things metaphysical. It also came straight out of one of the weirdest dreams I've had. (Why thank you, my subconscious.)
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Day 3. Now.
When the Thing appeared in my living room, my husband fled, yelling, “Matt, what the hell did you do?”
It’s like a modern art sculpture, all black sinew and sinister edges. I’ve seen enough of Brent’s gallery showings to know. It’s growing from floor to ceiling, but I checked and it’s not in the basement or the upstairs bedroom.
There’s a blackbird, too, which appeared on my bookshelf. I didn’t notice it the first day, it blends with the ebony of the shelf. But on the second day,...