Seaside Gothic

Fiction | Poetry | Nonfiction

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Weathervanes

Weathervanes by Rebecca Klassen

Eva and I emerge from the copse on the hill again, the trees shushing in the sea breeze. Our touching is only ever over our school uniforms. We kissed once ages ago with tongues, but decided it was too much like holding a slug in your mouth, slimy and warm. She’s called me slug ever since.

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