"From inside you hear screams, moans, a few words. All you understand is 'Nyet.'It's November in the public gardens of Venice. Lowering skies, no sun for six days, damp leaves underfoot, the skeletons of trees emerging. An obscuring mist alternates with downpours. You're standing outside the curtain to the Russian Pavilion at the Biennale with the man you love."
Short story "Acqua Alta" in Big Other, September 27, 2019.