"PEACEFUL CAT COMES IN PEACE," the cat yowled. "WE BE MONITURRIN U."

"You don't have to, like, make out with her. Just go get your game on. It's cool." God, Howard's pretty good at this advice shit. Maybe he should just bow out of the game gracefully and retire. He can wear long velvet dressing gowns and dispense advice to distraught young fictional lesbians. He will be a guru, a modern-day guru with glorious hair, and he will often be holding a glass half-full of dark red wine. His mansion will have many cameras. For security purposes, of course.

Rose smiles and looks at her desk, and Gwen follows her eyes, sees Rose’s hands spread wide on well-worn books, her fingers scratching at the backs of volumes older than the two of them put together. She’d never noticed before, but Rose is young, younger than she’d thought, younger than Gwen even.