Latex Single Quotes

The room was empty, aside from the wide pink bedslab and two nylon bags, new and identical, that lay beside it. Blank walls, no windows, a single white-painted steel firedoor. The walls were coated with countless layers of white latex paint. Factory space. He knew this kind of room, this kind of building; the tenants would operate in the interzone where art wasn't quite crime, crime not quite art.

Out in the suburbs, a dad thinks the new twink intern is hot, and has no idea how to process that. Mom wants the pool boy, and six of his friends, to all take turns knocking a baby into her. Grandma loves the feeling of latex washing up gloves way more than anyone else. Grandad puts on a wig when the wife is out and has never felt more right. And none of them—not a single fucking one—talks about any of this. None of them sees this stuff in their papers or their cable news or anywhere. There are millions of people, living their lives, from cradle to grave, keeping all of these things hidden. They’ll deny themselves a lifetime of exploration and joy and discovery of their true desires, all because it isn’t normal to talk about these things. And worse, they’ll persecute other people—good people—because they’re so fucking terrified of the secrets inside themselves.