Married Life With A Lamia -

Normal couples fight about dishes. We fight about her leaving a “shed trail” across the clean carpet or the fact that my snoring vibrates the floor in a way that “sounds like a dying badger” (her words). She gets the silent treatment by retreating into a giant coil under the bed. I get the silent treatment by… walking to the kitchen, which she cannot follow because her tail gets stuck in the hallway. It’s a fair stalemate.

She can’t exactly walk into a Piggly Wiggly. So we order online. But the quantities are absurd. I’ll unpack the delivery: 20 dozen eggs (raw, she prefers them warm), three whole rabbits from the specialty butcher, and a single bag of spinach for me. Our fridge is organized as “Her Side” (organ meats) and “My Side” (leftover pizza). We do not discuss the freezer. Married Life With A Lamia

Lying on her coil while she reads aloud, her human hand stroking my hair. Watching her catch morning light through the window, her scales shimmering like oil on water. The way she hisses when I tell a truly terrible pun—then laughs anyway. Normal couples fight about dishes

I realize I wouldn’t trade it for a boring, two-legged life. I get the silent treatment by… walking to