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“What are you going to write?” Sam asked.

He uncapped the marker and wrote:

So Marco stood at the edge of the park, watching the river of paper and LED light drift into the dusk. He saw two non-binary kids in matching “They/Them” pins, holding hands and laughing. He saw a group of older trans women—women in their fifties and sixties, their faces soft with estrogen and hard-won peace—helping a young trans girl tie her lantern string. He saw a lesbian couple with a baby strapped to one of their chests, the baby’s onesie reading “My Moms Are Trans Allies.” busty latina shemale

Marco had been coming to the Pride Lantern Festival for six years, but this was the first time he wasn’t holding a lantern for someone else.

He felt Sam’s hand slip into his.

The second year, he held one for a stranger named Jordan, a trans man from his GSA meeting who’d been too scared to come out. Marco’s lantern read “Trans Rights Are Human Rights.”

But his boyfriend, Sam—a cisgender gay man with a gentle laugh and an infuriating ability to be patient—had simply put the lantern kit on the kitchen table and said, “I’m not asking you to go for them. I’m asking you to go for you.” “What are you going to write

“See?” Sam said quietly. “You were never outside the circle. You just hadn’t found your spot in it yet.”