In the Beginning - The Paris Review
Briefly

I say "I am a boy, Janice," and Janice screams and faints.
Janice, primed by horror movies to see the supernatural in everything, was unable to imagine a less exciting explanation.
I can't read its first page without rushing to the bathroom in a panic to shit my brains out.
Fifteen years ago my mother-deaccessioning books from her crowded shelves, simplifying her retirement in Fort Myers, Florida, not knowing that, in 2022, flooding from Hurricane Ian would simplify her life far beyond the level of austere calm that had been her aim-fifteen years ago my mother airmailed me a cardboard box of m.
Read at The Paris Review
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