“I love you too baby,” she replies, and although she’s said the word thousands of times, she can hear the flanneled nervousness lodged now in her throat, the effort she must make to sound natural.
“I love you” is easy enough. “I love you” has become almost ordinary, being said not only on anniversaries and birthdays but spontaneously, in bed or at the kitchen sink or even in cabs within hearing of foreign drivers.
It’s a secret only because she can’t quite think how she’d explain, well, any of it-
She draws another breath.
She accelerates through the intersection.
I took the sections I had, and looking through them, found this new narrative. My new story is about a woman in a romantic relationship with anther woman. (Mrs Brown and Clarissa.) She’s in love with Clarissa, and has no problem expressing her love, but society’s opinion and the pressure she feels causes her to purposefully drive her car into the middle of an intersection.