So, a couple weeks ago I got tickled by the phrase "discovering he's gay." Its weird, isn't it? This idea that we discover our sexuality, like it was hiding beneath a rock or something. On the other hand, it can seem like our sexuality is something apart from us, a sort of invader.
Long story short, I'm writing a short story (see what I did there) about a boy who discovers his homosexuality in a shoe box in the middle of a field. It should be both funny and heartwarming or terrifying and melancholic, or all of those things. Man, if I could evoke that many emotions in 40k words, it'd be like I'm a good author or something.
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