Rug
“I’m looking for a picnic rug”, said Mark with a smile. The department store lady offered no empathetic reaction whatsoever.
“For you?”, she blurted, not having seen a male person in the homewares section in her eight years of service.
“Yes.”
Mark had not planned for this conversation. Were certain picnic furnishings aimed at certain types of people?
“We’ve only got pink ones left”, said the lady with an air of termination.
“OK”, said Mark, defeated and already backing away.
It was months before Mark would leave the house again, and when he did, it was with his picnic rug. Having had to plumb the depths of the dark web to find it, Mark’s rug was befitting of his gender. It bore a repeating pattern depicting penises snaking around beer cans, and he only loved it because he had been radicalised by incels and no longer loved himself.