The unspoken rule suggests the roughest or smoothest surfaces of stone. These will be applied as needed in the event of speech. Most of what you read. Most you will not understand. So hush. In the event of speech something always breaks.
“My hands are getting smaller and more beautiful in a way. Not manly, never that.” He never hit a person or threw a rock. With them. He has an arrangement, a deal, a covenant even. With them. A raw and common empathy for the zipline.
You’d want to bring the ends together with a twist, of course. Anyone would. You write it. And then you think about it. The embarrassment of you. In this body’s amalgam. No one said it was okay to be this. Much of a mess. Had you needed permission there was just a question. From it. So what if some one. Had. What of it.
And still. There’s one who consents. Almost. As father or mother. A jurisdiction hovering o’er consistently nervous choices. Puts the boy back.