Man Accused by Sophia Veltfort


Sully knew her. They’d hooked up sophomore year of college, on and off for a few weeks when the leaves burned deepest orange, and every step on campus shattered a thousand leafy veins. Jaclyn, Jax. She’d had a wonderful softness. Everything about her had been inviting to cup.

“What a boss,” someone was saying. “Was she always like that?”

“She wasn’t in a society. She kept her head down.”

“She did that women’s stuff, though. Sued her school.”

Sully tried to remember what she’d done on campus and with whom she’d hung around. Maybe the school paper. Had she worked on a play once? Maybe stage-managed? She’d been hard to pin down. He thought of the first time they’d kissed, the way she’d eyed him after, her lips slightly crooked, her eyebrows cocked. She could’ve had all the experience in the world or none of it, so inscrutable was her look of gentle mockery, as though always she were waiting for him to reveal himself, as though it were entertainment enough just to watch the world unfold.

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