Excerpt from the title story:
Clete and I had been friends for decades. We first met when we were seventh graders. My mother had grown tired of driving me to school when the bus stop was just down the street. Clete was on one knee when I arrived, his chin in his hand. "Spermatozoa are living creatures," he said, "and we make them." I did not know his name, and he did not know mine. We'd seen each other at school, but we'd never spoken. "They swim, they wriggle, they seek."
"Is this where we catch the bus?" I said.
"That means we have some sense of God in us," Clete said. "I feel it." He put his hand over his crotch. "It's like a bright, tickling light."
We've been friends ever since.
* From O, the Oprah Magazine
