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Mr. and Mrs. Brown were asleep when they came in.

They didn’t have to explain themselves to anyone. They didn’t turn on any lights.

They slithered upstairs, took off their clothes, turned on the bath, and settled into the gloom.

Soaked the cold from their bones.

Anointed, rose petal and freesia like frankincense and myrrh.

Washed off ice and salt and grass and herbs, diluted purification.

Slipped beneath the tincture to come out new.

Then, in the murky space before sleep, when Hollis was limp in Walt’s grasp and warmer than the hollow on a summer day, Walt pulled him back to the surface. He kissed the curve of their palm, and then licked it just once.

You make me shiver.