“What don’t you like about me?” she asked, her voice small and her eyes big.
“Your height. Your weight. Your piercings. Your tattoos.” He sighed. “You know, everything nature gave you, and everything you chose for yourself.”
“D-do you—” she whispered as her heart collapsed under its own gravity. Tears raced down her cheeks, as if anxious to escape the scene of a calamity. “Is— is there anything you… you do like?”
He smiled. It was the only lie he had to tell.
“I like that you cried when a real woman would have roared. I like that your panties are wet right now. I like knowing your story before its told, and I like knowing who you’ll dream of when you’re old.
“Turns out, the best parts of you are those the world has thrust upon you.”
