My daughter asks questions

Michael is, of course, at the heart of those questions. For a moment I was sure Candice had nothing to do with what I feel for Michael. Everyone I know knows that Michael is the only saint I know.

No. I haven’t stopped thinking about him. Dammit. I wish I could.

The completely unsurprising place I have ended up is here, still in charge of myself and everyone else. In writing it I become a God and can say fuck the rest.

What I feel for Michael complicates all that.

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