What Lives in the Static: Part 2— Femme in a Black Leather Jacket

Part 2 of a monthly new weird serial exploring scientific hubris, collapsing realities, and the defiant beauty of queer love in the face of humanity’s reckless quest to control the uncontrollable. Sign up to follow the serial on Substack here.

Nora hates waiting for the subway on nights like this. Hates it.

If this night were a movie — she plays this game with herself often — it would be a series of quick cuts.

Nora by the bar, turning to sip her drink and scan the crowd — jump cut — Nora making eye contact with a hot femme in a cutoff white tank, silver chains, and a shag cut, who smiles and waves and bites her lip before turning away — jump cut — Nora sucking her drink down in record time and pushing through the crowd into the pit — jump cut — finding the femme, pulling her in and whispering in her ear — jump cut — they’re kissing, the femme’s ring-laden fingers wrapped in her hair, pulling Nora’s face into her own — match cut this time — Nora, giggling, pulls the femme through the crowd and past the bouncer, and when they burst through the door, still attached at the lips, they’re in the femme’s apartment. Door slams. Cut to black.

But it’s not and now Nora’s standing on the Bedford Ave. subway platform, waiting for the train that’ll take her to the…