The following is a short story from Rat World Issue Three

Valentine’s Day 2004

Lucy wanted to spell the name of the boy she liked. I, a hopeless romantic at age five, volunteered to help. I could spell. I was damn good at spelling, and I was going to use my gifts for the power of love. My logic for deeming them a suitable couple was airtight. Both – I repeat – both of their names began with the same letter. Lucy & Luke, alliterative fate. I simply had to help.

“L.” She wrote it quickly.

“U.” A deftly drawn parabola appeared.

“Q.” She wrote it, no questions asked.

What had I done? She trusted me and I betrayed her. The truth is, my ADHD reared its absolute gremlin head in-between “U” and “K”. I thought to myself, ‘How would I have spelled Luke if they had bothered to ask a 5-year-old while deciding these sorts of things?’

I was far more satisfied with “Luq”. A pleasing set of symbols, and I was far more efficient than the silly adults who used four letters. That’s right. I could count, I was a genius. All that escaped my grasp was the elusive tangled loops that could allegedly tie my shoes.

“X.” She pauses. I don’t miss a beat.

“It’s silent.” She writes it, and my stomach turns. My hands were red with the blood of my innocence. This time it wasn’t even a question of improving upon the spelling of ‘Luke’. This time I was just fucking with her, for absolutely no reason. I had completely forgotten my altruistic intent, my pure-hearted quest to help love blossom in this cold and desolate world. I needed to fix this.

“Sorry, just kidding, it’s ‘K’ and then an ‘E’ at the end.” She was annoyed now and scribbled out the ‘X’ as she stormed off, but it was okay. I had come clean – the sin washed
away, leaving me a shining Cupid.

There she is across the room, handing Luke a freshly rewritten piece of cardboard. His name beautifully encased in a cartoon heart. Oh fuck. Oh no. Oh fuck: