Story by Kendal McGinnis; art by Alex Confer
He was soft because I conditioned him every Thursday night in the bathtub. He was soft as rosemary. Or, rosemary from dad’s garden on lamb chops in the winter. He smelled the way the kitchen smells after lamb chops in the winter, with mint sauce. Soft as rainwater. Dart was at once deep and shallow. Intense and blithe. Bouts of neuroses and self-loathing.