In-Between Alphabet: G is for Got

Got is crass and unrefined, greedy and grasping. It possesses, a casual confident ownership of the situation. Sometimes, it transforms, pulling on new meanings like temporary masks, a cheap disposable replacement good culture demands to be eradicated. First, it pulls on an imperative, an exclamation of outraged surprise, then, it turns and a new facet exposes, insidious, infectious, wrapping grasping tendrils through the soul.

She says Got and the word slides against him like the silk-warm caress of an over-affectionate cat. He is owned by her, so he is in good hands. His heartbeat calms, his stomach unclenches, and his teeth release his beleaguered lower lip. It’s strange that she’s so small next to him she has to tiptoe to kiss him, but as soon as Got falls out from behind her crooked teeth, he feels so safe, so protected, like if he hides behind her, the demons chasing him will skid in their tracks, wheel around terrified. He knows how fierce she is, how undaunted when faced with his trouble-infested past. Perhaps this is what Joan of Arc was like, or a mama bear when a stranger blocks her view of her cubs. She says Got and he curls tight in her embrace, a protected child again.