Brokeback Mountain
July 23, 1963
Ennis leaned back against the rock, watching a lone black crow circling overhead, its caw echoing off the mountains. He’d been up on the mountain for a few weeks now, watching the sheep while Jack tended to the camp. The time alone gave him space to think, something he seemed incapable of when he was with Jack. Then it was all about grabbing him, pulling at his clothes, clawing each other with a ferocity he didn’t understand.
“I ain’t queer,” he thought to himself, but he was beginning to wonder if that was really true. He ached for him when they were apart, he ached for him when they were together. If that wasn’t queer, what was it? “Maybe I got sprinkled with some sort a fairy dust,” he thought, then shook the idea out of his head.
“I ain’t queer,” he said aloud. “I’m marryin Alma when I come off this mountain and that’s all there is to it. Fairy dust be damned.”
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