When Micah had casually mentioned the invitation to read one of his poems in his last letter, Jefferson knew he could not miss it. He wanted Micah to understand he was serious about supporting his work, and if that meant traveling six hours so he could listen to Micah read for five minutes, then he would do it. Without regret or hesitation.
He knew it would be difficult to see Micah again, especially given the tone of their last letters. His dreams were becoming more vivid, his fantasies more specific. Seeing Micah in person was exactly like seeing Micah behind his closed eyes every night, and yet, completely different. He hadn’t expected the urge to touch Micah to be quite so overwhelming. He hadn’t expected to taste his desire on the back of his tongue. He hadn’t expected Micah’s resona
