Ange’s car took up much of the garage
apartment where he lived. As the car eased to a stop, the front
bumper just inches from the back of the pull-out sofa that doubled
as a bed, Ange grimaced at the squalid room illuminated beyond his
headlights. He raised his voice over the ragged sound of the engine
off the corrugated tin roof. “Be it ever so humble.”
Tyler offered, “It’s nice.”
“You think?” Ange climbed out of the car and
stretched, his arms reaching high above his head as his back
lengthened, working out the kinks that had settled in during the
day. The hem of his shirt pulled up to expose a flat stomach,
smooth skin the color of damp sand, a few dark hairs hinting at
more just beneath the belt that rode low on his narrow hips. He
felt Tyler watching him, trying to figure
