Another _Queer Shorts_ excerpt! This one’s from Gayle Lloyd’s “Evelyn.”

That night, in Evelyn’s bedroom, we slipped into separate twin beds. She had offered a quick hug, but no kiss, when I arrived and had brushed aside my gestures of affection. She was friendly but not loving. I hoped for a better response once we were alone and the lights were out.

I whispered her name a couple of times from my bed, but she gave no answer. I moved over to her bed, knelt on the floor next to her head, and whispered again, “Evelyn.” No response. I thought she feigned sleep because she couldn’t have dozed off so fast.

I stroked her hair. She didn’t move. I whispered again, “Evelyn.” Nothing.

Finally, I bent over and softly kissed her still lips. She might as well have been a corpse. I stayed beside her for a few minutes, gazing at her, hoping she would awaken to me. At last I realized how hopeless it was to try to rouse her. She would have her way.

My stomach churned and my throat and eyes felt dry and hot, but I could not cry. I crept back to my bed. It was hours before sleep finally overtook me. I was forced to understand that we were no longer lovers.

Gayle Lloyd lives in Atlanta. She is currently working on The Cat Comes on Little Fog Feet, a humorous, illustrated, literary cat book; An Incomplete Fool, a novel; and Legal Matters, a play about gay marriage.