8FOLD: Cal Plus Raidne # 1, "Punchy-Punchy Fight-Fight"

[Amabel Holland]

Cal Morgan – THE MIGHTY INCH – is head over heels for their gal
Raidne! They're really cute together!

         #                   #    #
###  ##  #     #    ###  ##     ### ##  ###
#   # #  #    ###   #   # #  #  # # # # ##
### ###  ##    #    #   ###  ## ### # # ###
NUMBER ONE: PUNCHY-PUNCHY FIGHT-FIGHT
[8F-208][PW-52]

------- ME AND MY MUTUALS ------------------

Cal Morgan, THE MIGHTY INCH, 18 (well, almost). They/them.
It's me! Only an inch tall! So tiny! Good at punching! So mighty! I'm
pretty okay, mostly.

Raidne, age N/A. She/her.
A.I. construct that lives in my suit! She's funny, and smart, and
sexy, and 101% awesome. Plus she's in love with me for some reason! I
don't get it either, but I'll take it!

Lily Green, THE LIVING UWU, age 26. She/her.
Marxist catgirl (but not that kind of catgirl). Extremely online.
Makes you feel kinda warm and fuzzy all over.

Lola Brodeur, DUST DEVIL, age 23. She/her.
Cyborg who does cyclone stuff. Human head on a super-spindly body with
like these thin metal tubes for limbs. Kinda weirds me out to be
honest, but Raidne pointed out that that's really ableist of me so I'm
trying to work on that.

Peter Sampson, FAHRENHEIT MAN, age 33. He/him.
Oh look at me, I'm Fahrenheit Man, I'm a big dork who is on fire all
the time, and also my wife is a rock star who hit Cal with a shrink
ray and ruined their life, what, no, I'm not bitter what are you
talking about.

Bethany Clayton, KNOCKOUT MOUSE, age 32. She/her.
Leader of the Daylighters (btw we're part of the Daylighters). Good at
punching I guess for an old person. I don't know her super-well, she's
friends with my sister Kate.

--------------------------------------------

It's Cal's first visit to Bottle City, Iowa.

   "Bigger than I expected," they whisper to Raidne as they land their
miniature jet just outside the city limits.

   "You were expecting an actual bottle?"

   "No," says Cal, defensively. "Well, maybe. Something bottle-like,
at least. Bottle-adjacent."

   But no, it's just a small suburb like any other: streets and
buildings, shops and houses, stop-signs and crosswalks. Sure, a cozy
little bungalow is only a foot high, and the tallest skyscraper would
be dwarfed by an ambitious sapling, but the taxes are still too high
and the local politics still disproportionately vicious.

   Cal thought for a moment that they might actually feel at home
here. It's a tiny city full of tiny people. Cal got permanently
miniaturized by a shrink ray, whereas Bottle City was built back in
the nineteen-fifties (I mean, jeez, that's way older than their sister
Kate, who is verifiably ancient) for folks who were miniaturized by
what they used to call "pockets" (which is kinda a slur, don't say
that), but is known these days as Beydoun-Carnot Syndrome. The six
thousand, five hundred sixty-five residents living there right now, in
the year of our Lord twenty-fifteen, and the month of our Lord April,
are mostly people with BCS, or their descendants, who were born
miniaturized.

   The last few years, a lot of those younger folks are leaving Bottle
City. One of Cal's new internet friends, Lisa, is a BCS disability
rights advocate and, as she told Cal, "making a whole-ass city where
you can shove a bunch of disabled people so you don't have to deal
with them is super-effing ableist". Be that as it may, it's still the
world's largest concentration of short people, so, again, Cal should
feel like they belong here.

   But, nope! Because even people with BCS – literally the shortest
people on Earth – are taller than Cal. They're the Mighty Inch, after
all, while the residents of Bottle City average six times that.

   "You would think that, like, comparatively, it'd at least be less
weird," Cal will explain later to Raidne on the flight back home, "but
actually, it's more weird. Makes me feel more isolated. Even in Bottle
City, I still don't belong."

   This feeling is only exacerbated by the reason for the trip. They
came here to see the only endocrinologist that will give HRT to trans
folks with BCS. Full-size endos usually won't do it for fun-sized
patients – it's a problem with scaling down the dosage for bodies that
are twelve times smaller than normal. Cal was hoping the doc could
scale it down further.

   So the doctor takes some blood and runs some tests and makes some
calculations, and it turns out that, no, she can't scale it down for
Cal. Any dose large enough to be effective would also be large enough
to kill them.

   "At least right now," the doctor says. "I've been researching
alternatives for blah-blah-blah boring stuff sucks to be you kid."
Paraphrasing. Slightly.

()

Using the tactile interface in Cal's suit, Raidne squeezes their hand.
"Are you okay?"

   "Not really," says Cal, pulling their jet into the garage. "Just
mad at myself for being stuck like this."

   "That's not your fault," says Raidne. "You want to blame somebody,
blame Tina Wazowie."

   "Nah. I've made my peace with her mostly, doesn't help to get mad at her."

   "Doesn't help to get mad at yourself."

   "She shrunk me down," says Cal, pointing their finger like a shrink
ray at an imaginary giant-sized Cal. "But she's not the reason I'm
stuck like this. That's on me. I had a choice. I could've went back to
our earth, and there still would've been time to reverse it. Instead,
I stayed."

   "You stayed, and you saved thousands of lives," says Raidne.
"Because you're a good person. Because you have a good heart."

   "It felt good then," says Cal. "To choose something bigger than
myself. I don't regret it. Not exactly. But." They struggle with the
words.

   "But?" says Raidne gently.

   "If I knew exactly what I was giving up, I wouldn't have made the
same choice."

   "You don't know that."

   "I do," Cal insists. "I know. And it's hard to admit that. Hard to
know that about myself. It don't sit right." They bite their knuckle.
"I don't mind being short for the rest of my life. Being the Inch has
brought a lot of good into my world. I love saving the day. Love
leading a squad. Love you. I want you in my life, want all of that in
my life.

   "But that doesn't change the fact that my brain doesn't work right.
And now, apparently, my brain will never work right." Cal drums their
fingers along the dashboard, more tired than angry. "Damn it, I was
looking forward to it, too. My whole life, I was so confused all the
time. Knew something was wrong but didn't know what it was. Thought
maybe that I was just broken somehow. Didn't have the words for it.
Then, suddenly I had the words. Knew what was wrong, and best of all,
I knew a way to fix it.

   "So, yeah. This sucks. This really sucks."

   "Oh, Cal," says Raidne softly. Light as a feather, she moves an
imaginary hand up and down their spine.

   "You're sweet," says Cal. "But I think I just wanna be alone for a while."

   "Of course. Call me when you want me."

()

Raidne sends a text to Doctor Fay. "I have a new project for you, if
you have the time."

   "I don't," the doctor types back, "but I've got a feline you're
gonna pitch it to me anyway.

   "Asterisk," continues Fay, "feeling, not feline. Gosh darn autocorrect."

   "Cal's miniaturization is supposed to be permanent. I'm hoping you
can find a way around that."

   "The short life starting to bum her out?"

   "Cal uses they/them now."

   "Oh shoot, sorry, didn't know. Won't happen again."

   Raidne explains Cal's predicament.

   "I get it," types Doctor Fay. "We can't make the medicine smaller,
so you want to make the patient bigger. The problem is that you need
to be scaled back up within six hours of shrinkage to avoid
catastrophic tissue damage. Especially the first time. And Cal had
already blown well past that mark when they finally made it back to
our Earth. Now you add, what, four months on top of that? Oof."

   "I know it's impossible. That's why I'm asking Doctor Fay."

   Raidne can't see Doctor Fay's smile, but she knows it's there.
"I'll see what I can do, Raidne."

()

Nothing takes Cal's mind off their troubles like a little
punchy-punchy fight-fight. Today, Cal and Raidne are leading a squad –
Lily, Lola, and Peter – against the Palette Pack. Cal's team
intercepts the monochromatic marauders as they're scurrying through a
hole they blew in the Lighthouse – the headquarters of the Seven
Wonders for decades.

   "Three against three," muses Red Phantom as he readies one of his
terror blasts (fists crackling with light and shadow). "You should've
brought more."

   "Five of us, jackass," Cal mutters under their breath. But only
their own team can hear it. "Lola, Peter, from above. Lily, keep them
occupied while I circle around."

   With both hands, Lily hoists her ban-hammer over her head, bringing
it down to the earth with a tremendous crack. Though Cal is several
yards away, the impact is enough that it sends them sprawling in the
dirt. "Trying to walk here," Cal grumbles.

   "Sowwy," says Lily.

   Lily's hammer had also sent Yellow Streak tumbling. This gives Lola
an opening; the French cyborg tornado-twists toward the fallen
speedster. But just before Lola can close the distance, Blue Shield
protects his brother with a makeshift barrier of rubble.

   Telekinetically, he helps Yellow Streak to his feet, then passes
him the stolen tech. "Get moving, baby brother," Blue Shield says
gruffly. "Me and Red can handle this."

   Cal pipes in to Peter's earpiece. "Don't let him leave the party.
But remember, we have to take him out last."

   Fahrenheit Man nods, deftly avoiding Red Phantom's terror blasts
while drawing a circle of flame around Yellow Streak. Streak's top
speed is only about sixty miles an hour – a slowpoke compared to other
speedsters.

   "Trapped here, guys," Yellow Streak calls out.

   Blue Shield uproots an oak with his mind, throwing it at Lily (Lola
scoops her up just in time). "Just run through it."

   "Run through it! It's like a thousand degrees!"

   "Couple thousand, actually," says Peter. "Wouldn't recommend it."

   "Didn't ask you," barks Blue Shield. He uproots another tree,
knocking Lola out of the sky.

   "Um," says Lola in freefall.

   "Peter," says Cal.

   "On it," says Peter as he catches Lola.

   Yellow Streak is still trapped. "If you move fast enough, you won't
get burned," says Blue Shield. "Now go!"

   "Enough of this," says Red Phantom, casually terror-blasting his
brother in the back. Crippled by eldritch dread, Yellow Streak falls
to the ground, unconscious. His suit dips to gray.

   Which means of course that his brothers' suits take on secondary
colors. Green Shield stares at his brother's body, horrified.

   "He'll live," says Orange Phantom. "Shield, pick up the baton,
finish the race."

   Green Shield uses his brother's speed to make a beeline for the
circle of flames, while his own telekinesis deflects Peter's fireballs
and Lily's glitter bombs. Orange Phantom, now with a speedster's
reflexes and metabolism, unleashes a series of now orange-hued terror
blasts. Lily barely manages to dodge, but Peter isn't so lucky. As he
falls to the ground in a pile, the circle of flames snuffs itself out.

   One speedster is dangerous, but two is something else entirely.
This is why Cal wanted to take him out last. "Lola, you on your feet
again?"

   "More or less." She dips into the wisps of smoke and out again,
retrieving the parcel.

   "Not so fast," says Green Shield. He points with his fingers at
Lola's mechanical body. Her graceful, sinuous flight becomes heavy and
lilting as he attempts to telekinetically bring her to the ground. It
takes everything she has to fight it.

   "You're tenacious, I'll give you that," he admits through gritted
teeth. "But now I'm giving you my full attention."

   He can do this because his brother's blasts force Lily to keep her
distance. Not for long, though; Cal has finally reached Orange
Phantom. "Time for the ankle-biter." They stick a paralydisc on each
of his meaty calves. "Ready, hon?"

   "Of course, darling," says Raidne as she turns them on. The
electric shock is enough to quietly knock him out.

   The struggle with Lola is so fierce that Brown Shield doesn't
notice his costume's change of color, nor the terror crackle now
coursing through his own veins, nor the Marxist catgirl who is
sneaking up behind him with a ginormous ban-hammer. Bonk!

   Lily dusts off her hands, a job well done. That's when her hammer
throws itself into the air, crashing into Lola, who tumbles to the
ground.

   The Streak catches the parcel, then points a crackling hand at
Lily. "Your friends need help. I'm going to take my brother and go."

   "There's no way we're letting you three get away, Brown Streak," says Lily.

   "Do not call me that," he says, bristling. "And I said brother,
singular. Just the one that didn't shoot me in the back. Phantom can
rot for all I care. Keep the macguffin, too." As a show of good faith,
he tosses it to Lily. "I just want to walk away."

   "Boss?" whispers Lily.

   "Lola should be fine, but we don't know how bad Peter is injured,"
councils Raidne. "It's your call, Cal."

   "With all three powers, he could take out Lily, no problem," says
Cal. "Uh, no offense, Lily."

   "Lots taken?"

   "So why doesn't he?" says Cal. "Then he can leave with his brother
and the package."

   "Might not have the stomach for the violence?" suggests Raidne.

   "Did, did you want me to ask him?" says Lily.

   "Oh my flipping gosh, no," says Cal, pinching the bridge of their
nose. "Just take the package and fall back."

()

Red Phantom awakes in power-dampening manacles, and on his way to
federal custody. Knockout Mouse is there to oversee the transfer.

   "How's your squad?" Bethany asks Cal.

   "Peter's bruised and a little spooked," says Cal. "I guess it's a
side-effect of the terror blast?"

   "And Dirt Devil?"

   "Grounded. She's in the Lighthouse, repairing her rig. Says she'll
be up and at 'em again in an hour or two."

   "Just a few scratches, really. Not bad, kid."

   "Are you sure?" says Cal. "I mean, two of them got away."

   "But not with this," says Bethany, picking up the parcel. "And with
all the cosmic doo-dads and high-tech nonsense the Seven Wonders
collected over the years? I'd call that a win. If I was in your
position, I would've made the same choice."

   "You would have flattened them."

   "I mean, yeah, but you didn't have a Singularity Gauntlet. Don't be
too hard on yourself. You did good."

   "Hmmph." Cal's not entirely convinced. "So, uh, giant hole in the
side of the Lighthouse, there."

   "We'll have a crew to fix it in the morning," says Bethany. "Can
you stay here for another couple hours while I try to scrap together a
night watch?"

   "I mean, if the Daylighters are stretched thin?"

   "Always am these days." Most of the roster is still recovering from
the whole Hotspur slash FEVER slash The Company mess.

   "We can just be the night watch," offers Cal. "Let me check with
Lily and Lola."

   "What about Peter?"

   "Figured I'd send him home, what with him being a little on edge."

   Bethany twists her lips in thought. "Keep him on."

   "I mean, sure," says Cal, "we could use the extra muscle if things
get hairy, I'm just thinking more about his well-being as like a
person."

   "So am I," says Bethany. "Peter relaxes by working. Being a
superhero is what he does so he doesn't have to have a personality."
Cal can tell from Bethany's tone of voice that she isn't trying to be
mean, but it still comes across that way. "And remember, he used to be
one of the Wonders. He's gonna feel better in the Lighthouse than on
the bench."

()

Cal finds Peter in the basement of the Lighthouse, placing the Scepter
of the Endless Tyrant back under glass. "So, what does it do, anyway?"

   "Nothing now," says Peter, "but once it enslaved the Shadow Galaxy,
and through its subtle terrors, sought to make our own its catspaw!"

   "I don't know what any of that means."

   "I remember that adventure well," he begins. "As the rising sun
stretched its fingers, its light was dimmed by a deep fog of purified
malice. That was the first sign that something was wrong. The first of
seven."

   "Okay, gonna stop you right there. It's more that I just want to
figure out why the Palette Gang was trying to make off with it."

   "That I cannot say. Once we broke the power of his Perpetual
Throne, the Endless Tyrant was banished by his own subjects to the
Hypothetical Universe. This rendered his scepter but a useless
trinket, which was given to us as a memento of the Three Hour War.
Many tests have been run throughout the years since, each confirming
that it holds no power or special properties."

   Somehow, that was even worse than getting the whole story. Cal
pushes on. "But this is what they were after. They didn't steal
anything else?"

   "I cannot say. I just started running the inventory program. First
time it's been on since the Wonders shut down. But we didn't see them
with anything else. Perhaps it was only the scepter they were after.
Perhaps they did not know its awesome power has been lost."

   "Maybe," says Cal (they're more of a "maybe" person than a
"perhaps" person). "But I doubt it. These guys are chumps, sure, but
they're not idiots. They're not gonna risk busting into the old
Wonders HQ without solid intel. Something's fishy. Raidne, babe, let
Bethany know."

   "On it, boss."

   "So, Peter, how are you doing? That terror bolt was pretty nasty.
Files say it's often traumatic."

   "I'm doing well," says Peter. "It will not hinder me in completing
my inventory before this night is through. This I swear!"

   "No, I'm not asking about that," says Cal. "I meant, how are you
doing? How is Peter?"

   "I'm doing well," he says again, roaring with gusto. Cal isn't so
sure. He looks sad. But that's the problem with Peter; he always looks
sad, even when he's happy.

()

Lola's almost done with her repairs when Cal walks in. Much to their
surprise, Lola turns her head toward them and mutters a polite hello.

   "Most people don't see me," remarks Cal.

   "Ah, but I'm not most people." Lola offers her hand, and Cal climbs
aboard, hopping off onto the nearby table. "Cybernetic eyes."

   Cal wonders how much of Lola is cybernetic, and how much is
organic. It's an unwelcome and intrusive thought, and they feel gross
for thinking it.

   Lola grimaces; she saw the look, saw the question Cal knows better
than to ask.

   "Sorry," says Cal.

   "You've got to work on your poker face, fearless leader."

   "I think you're the first person to see my face in months," says
Cal. (Other than the folks in Bottle City, but Cal doesn't want to get
into that.) "Everyone else, it's just a tiny little smudge."

   "Better than being gawked at."

   "I don't mean to gawk."

   "Wasn't talking about you," says Lola kindly. "Besides, you don't
gawk. You look. There's a difference. I don't mind being looked at.
Used to be a model. Before, well. Anyway. Stand back?" Lola pushes
down on the bench with her hands, lifting her lower half off the
ground. She gives it a spin: a sudden whirring of metal and a whoosh
of cool air. "A little too tight," she says, talking a screwdriver to
her pelvis.

   She gives it another go. "Perfect." Her face goes flat, her voice a
shrill herky-jerky monotone: "This unit is now fully operational."

   "Um," says Cal.

   "It's a joke."

   "I know. It's just, I don't think of you that way. Just like I
don't think of Raidne that way."

   "I mean, look, I don't think of myself that way, either," says
Lola. "Well, most of the time." She frowns. "Blue Shield, Green
Shield, whatever his name was, with the mind-over-matter stuff?"

   "What about him?"

   "According to the file, he can't use it on a human being. Or
anything with a brain. The brain fights it off. But he used it on me."

   "He tried to use it on you," counters Cal. "On your, uh, your
mechanical parts. And you did fight it off."

   "I know," says Lola. "I keep telling myself that. But it doesn't
change how it felt. How it feels."

   "How does it feel?"

   Lola is silent for a moment. "Like this isn't really my body. Or
like I don't have a body at all. I mean, it's here, I can see it. I
think and it moves. But it's not a body. It's an object that I can
manipulate. Or that someone else can. A machine I can use." She
shrugs. "I don't suppose you know what that's like."

   "Not exactly," says Cal, "not one-to-one, anyway, cuz obviously our
situations are different. I don't feel like I'm in the wrong body, or
like it isn't mine, but there is that disconnect, this sense that my
brain doesn't fit. Like you said, I think and it moves, but it quite
doesn't feel," she searches for the right word and fails, "it doesn't
feel right. And that feeling's gotten a lot sharper since I got all
tiny-like."

   Lola nods. She's about to say something else, but it's at that
moment that a loud THA-DOOM shakes the Lighthouse. "Coming from
above," Lola says as she offers her hand. Cal climbs aboard, and Lola
whirlwinds her way out of the room and up the stairwell.

   Peter is likewise en route; the air becomes hot and stifling as he
rushes past them. Lola follows the disappearing tail of flame as Peter
turns into the Watch Room.

   By the time they fly in after him, Peter is struggling to lift a
massive stone disc that's flat on the floor. It's at least ten feet in
diameter. Lola sets Cal down on the conference table and helps Peter
put the disc upright, resting it against the wall.

   On the other side of the disc is a looking glass. There isn't a
crack or a scratch on it despite the fall. But that isn't the most
surprising thing about it. The most surprising thing is that Lily is
on the other side of it.

   "Hi," she says weakly, her voice tinny and distant.

   Peter covers his mouth with a fist. "Gadzooks! Did you touch the
forbidden mirror?"

   "Uh, maybe?" says Lily. "Is this the forbidden mirror?"

   "Indeed!"

   "Then, yes, I did touch the forbidden mirror. Uh, briefly."

   "Is that bad?" says Cal.

   "It is perilous beyond measure," says Peter.

   "In my defense," says Lily.

   "This ought to be good," says Lola.

   "Rude. In my defense, no one told me not to touch it."

   "Um," says Cal, "hate to harsh your vibe there, hon, but I think
this falls under the whole 'this place is stuffed to the brim with
weird, arcane, and extraterrestrial doo-dads, don't touch anything'
thing."

   "Okay, valid."

   "Peter," says Cal, "can you give us an exposition dump on this
mirror here, and more importantly, how we get her out of it?"

()

Peter explains where the mirror came from, what it does, how it came
into the possession of the Seven Wonders, and, yes, how they might get
Lily out of it, and shortly thereafter, they manage to do just that.
That part isn't terribly important. What's important is that after
Lily's on the right side of the mirror again – "thank goodness, I
really need to pee", "you always need to pee", "thanks a lot
spironolactone" -  Cal quietly charges Peter with keeping an eye on
her.

   In a few short hours, Peter Sampson – the fantastic Fahrenheit Man
– will cease to exist. As he breathes his last desperate gasp, he will
trace the chain of events that led inexorably to his fate. The chain
stretches back to his earliest memories.

   "This was always going to happen, if something else didn't kill me
first." Something else – or, rather, many somethings else – nearly
did. Even before the day he touched the dying embers of the Burning
Amulet, absorbing its ancient energies and making them his own, his
existence was precarious. He almost didn't make it to this moment.
He's glad that he did.

   This was always going to happen, but it was this night watch in the
Lighthouse that at last set the final act in motion. It was Lily. She
didn't mean to do it, any more than she meant to touch the forbidden
mirror. But she did it just the same.

   He isn't angry about that. On the contrary, in Peter's final
moments before becoming something else, as he joyfully embraces his
awesome and terrifying destiny, he thanks her.

()

"Okay," says Raidne, about a half hour after they've freed Lily from
the mirror, "now do Peter." The two of them are alone in the gallery,
watching the sunset glisten on the water.

   "Fahrenheit Man," says Cal.

   "Yes. Fahrenheit Man, ordering a pizza."

   Cal deepens their voice, bellowing: "After a titanic test of power,
my hunger is mighty! I require two of your large pizzas! With extra
pepperoni!"

   "He's a vegetarian, actually."

   "Good to know." They take a swig of water from their miniature
bottle. "I wish my voice was that deep."

   "His voice is pretty deep, hon."

   "Okay, so maybe not that deep," says Cal. "But you know what I mean."

   "Yeah." Raidne shifts herself to the side of Cal's face, becoming
fingertips, gently touching their cheek.

   "Mmm. That feels nice."

   "I'm glad."

   "I wish I could touch you back."

   "That's sweet of you, hon. But I don't really want to be touched.
Don't need it. Don't want it. The thought of having a body is," she
hesitates, "uncomfortable."

   "You don't need to do that, you know."

   "Do what?"

   "Pretend to hesitate," says Cal. "To hem and haw and search for
words. I know constructs put those pauses in to be less direct when
they're talking with organic people, so that they don't alienate them
or scare them. But, like, you're not gonna scare me, hon. You don't
need to do that with me."

   "So, actually, I was reading this article by an construct writer I
really admire," says Raidne. "It was about code-switching. I can
recite it if you want, or give you the summary."

   "Summary."

   "Ze argued in zir piece that we don't really use those elements in
our speech for the comfort of organic people, but our own. It's true
that if we speak very directly, without the simulated hesitation or
filler, it makes organic people feel like we're not really people. And
that reaction from them reinforces our own internalized feelings of
not 'really' being alive. It can be very damaging and dehumanizing.

   "So, using organic tics in our speech gives us a stronger sense of
personhood. Some constructs even use it with one another, with no
organic people around, because it affirms us as people."

   "Sounds a little like gender euphoria."

   "Yes, probably very similar," says Raidne. "The article actually
draws that comparison. These tics also gives us more tools with which
to express ourselves. For example, when I paused before the word
'uncomfortable', it was to give it extra weight, so you would know how
much I value my bodilessness. The idea that I didn't need to add that
pause kinda reinforces the idea that the word didn't need that extra
weight, presumably because I'm not a real person whose needs and wants
are to be taken seriously."

   "Oh God," says Cal. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean that at all."

   "No, it's okay," says Raidne. "That's why I used the word 'kinda'
before 'reinforces'. It was to downplay it so that it wouldn't come
across as accusative. I know how you think of me and feel about me.
Otherwise, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

   "It makes a lot of sense now," says Cal. "I was thinking all this
time that you were doing it, you know, because of me? That you weren't
being fully yourself. And I know what that feels like, right? God, I
know what that feels like, so I didn't want you feeling like you had
to do that, especially not on my account."

   "I know that, hon," says Raidne, gently pulsing in Cal's palm. "And
I want you to know that I feel very comfortable being myself,
discovering myself, in your company. To be honest, there has been
something I've been holding back. I was worried you'd think it was
silly, or an affectation."

   "Oh, sweetheart," says Cal. "What is it?"

   "I really like the word 'um'," says Raidne, slightly embarrassed.
"It just really seems like a fun word to use, and I was thinking that
maybe sometimes I could use it."

   "You don't need my permission, babe. Go ahead. Try it out."

   "Um, thanks," says Raidne. She giggles. "Oh, I like that a lot."

   "I'm glad."

   "Um," says Raidne, "and there I'm using it as an interjection; I
really like how versatile it is! But I'm using it to preface that I
just got pinged by Peter. He's finished the inventory."

   "Was something else missing?" says Cal.

   "No," says Raidne. "Quite the opposite. He found something new."

COPYRIGHT 2023 AMABEL HOLLAND