A Boat Named Misery…

Epilogue

*Em’s pov*

I woke in a sweat after that crazy ass dream. Sure, I respected and adored Tesla but there was no way that’d ever happen; not least of which because we were both asexual (as far as I knew). I’d had sex before and didn’t mind it — it’s how I got my amazing kid after all. But I never sought it out for its own sake, nor thought anyone hot in any way that would ever make me want to fuck or make love to them. It was the same for me with romance, namely me being aromantic, and imagining yourself alone in a universe with an enamored lover seemed pretty damn romantic to me. Not in an appealing way, I should note.

I shook my head and started to stretch my limbs one by one, a requirement for my disability. Chronic pain in the form of fibromyalgia, of course. After stretching. I slowly rolled over on my hands and knees before stepping out of bed. Flipping on the TV, I put on my daily tai chi video and breathed and gently moved my perpetually-aching body. As my blood flowed more easily the pain lessened a bit and I felt ready to move for the day. I sat down briefly at my desk to write in my dream journal then loped downstairs to make cereal and milk to take with my morning meds.

Nope. Not even being half-fairy could protect me from human genetic issues. I sighed, tool my pills. lit a blunt of the finest medical cannabis in the state, and wondered why my brain had conjured a sex dream about my hero while literal outer space aliens were approaching the earth. I needed to do some research, I…