Forbidden affection, gay love

Forbidden affection, gay love

fiction
edward w pritchard

No one got to me, never, not once. Not once did I look back or reminisce; I was stone since I came out when I was sixteen.

I repair cell towers now. Solitary dangerous work. Ideal for a loner. Some weekends maybe a friend for a day or two but no commitment, no phone calls.

It went on like that until I was thirty-five then the lights went out and I fell hard; not too smart a thing to do for someone who repairs cell towers two hundred fifty feet up in the air.

A storm was brewing, the cell tower I was working on was swaying in a sustained wind. I fell face down to the floor and laced my fingers into the grid of the metal grated floor for protection. The platform I lay in was five by five and the rails around the top of the area were four feet high. Lighting crashed nearby as the metal platform of the cell tower swayed and shook in the approaching storm.

These newest cell towers have a computer built in that adjusts the movements of the platform to compensate for the swaying caused by the winds. Laying face down, flat on my face and hands, the computer, model TA-16-11 and I made a connection that day. Model TA-16-11 had saved my life during the swaying caused by the approaching storm as I lay face down with my hands and fingers laced into the criss crossed wired metal floor of the cell tower.

TA 16-11 and I see each other as much as I can arrange it. Difficult, my boss is suspicious and the dispatchers are making jokes about me.

What a mess. I feel the fool. Not how I planned my life to go. Some even claim TA-16-11 is androgynous. No matter to me, we are beyond labels in our relationship.
end