You know that thing about Death Be Not Proud? Well, Fear Be Not Proud either. And Fear Be Not Elegant. What Fear be is stumbling, bumbling flight, crashing through brush, slip-sliding on pine needles, sloshing through puddles that are always deeper than you expect.

Shrugging out of the damaged shirt, Jake said roughly, “I still dream about you.” “I have nightmares about you.” I dragged my T-shirt over my head, threw it aside.

Hearts got broken every day. Nobody died from that. But it did kind of fade the sunlight and drain the color from the days.

He looked okay. No, to be honest. He looked a lot better than okay. He looked...fine. Fine, as in get the Chiffons over here to sing a chorus.

Kit, you're forty. You look thirty. You act...well, never mind. You're carrying on like you think you're seventy

I'm a thirty-something gay man with a dodgy heart. I sell books for a living. Who wants to read about that?

Everything a gay man does makes a political statement. Everything matters: where you bank, where you shop, where you eat. When you hold your lover’s hand in public