FAN WU


Toronto / Writer
Fan Wu doesn't know if he should contact the people with whom he speaks in dreams.


π“…”



My best friend's crush recites an apology from across the door. He is a reader of Heidegger with a macho but mousey face, a faint pencil moustache at top of lip. I begin to approve of him, because he is kind enough to practice an apology before giving it β€” awkwardness matters less than the attempt to be Good. My best friend walks out of the washroom and the two of them hand me a phone that has my high school bully/crush on the other side. His voice has changed β€” softened. I ask him if he's still writing science fiction; I beg him to call me faggot again, because now I've reclaimed the word. I wake into horniness.

(21/3/2020)