named.

the old nickname surfaces as a stand in for the new one. a temporary fix for an indefinite reality. she says it sweetly and innocently, like rain softly pattering on window panes too old and cracked to see through. waves of nostalgia and sorrow rush the skin, prickly tingly intangible waves crashing upon the shores of identity in a burst of love for the past, and the fear of leaving it behind for an uncertain future.

trickling tingles lull the aching back into false security, letting the muscles think the weight of the universe is gone, or at least a little bit less heavy, but carbohydrates eaten every few hours exacerbate the ache of the androgynous android’s belligerent back and remind its host of its impending implosion.

this arrogant ache is well known and a regular customer at the notorious nonspecific genderbend gallery. it infiltrates the arcade of allies and awesome to knock nonbinary noggins into bowling alleys. they roll and they loll and they all start to fall onto beds of needles and glass, where they’re pricked and they poked and turned into a joke, all due to daring to differ.