With another month of quarantine ahead, Dillon is depressed. Stuck with no one to talk to but the squirrel who visits his terrace for snacks, he's pretty sure June is going to suck. One morning, things start looking up when a pride flag appears on the terrace railing right across from his.<br><br>Kit is up from downstate for just a month. He and Dillon hit it off and find a way to make the best of social distancing and the clothesline that runs from one building to the other. They even celebrate Pride and other occasions with their neighbors and spend some intimate moments together, despite being so far apart.<br><br>As much fun as June turns out to be, what happens when Kit's short stay is over? Are the two only enjoying a brief summer fling? Will even more distance between them mean the end of everything?

Let's Hang Out

“Always is,” I assured him. “She’s made a million trips back and forth across that clothesline. Now that you feed her, too, she has a good reason to get to the other side.” So did I, and hoped I could someday.


“I, uh, want to ask you something,” Kit said days later, toward the end of another lengthy phone chat that stared in the dark and wound down after sunrise. “I know we haven’t known each other more than a few days.”


“Right. Ten days. Eleven sunrises counting this one. Nine dates.” He started listing them off. “Movie night, breakfast at the circus, breakfast at the beach, wine under the stars, our day in my neck of the woods…”


We both owned Black Dog apparel we’d hung on the line for a pretend morning stroll along The Cape and some post whale watching shopping downstate.


Chapter 7