CHAPTER 1

BZZZT! BZZZT! BZZZT!

Poppy's phone vibrates against the bottom of her pillow. She feels the reverberations through her entire skull, from her chin up to the tips of her ears. She rushes to turn it off, to silence the beast disturbing her from a good nights rest. Once the alarm is finally off, the screen brightens to show all of the notifications she got throughout the night. 576 messages in AntiAntler, her online forum for transfem individuals who have to deal with antlers, a video of a pigeon juggling empty coffee cups from Newton, and an email from the admissions board of a random college. "YOU HAVE BEEN PREAPPROVED FOR OUR FINANCIAL AID PROGRAM!!!" or something of that sort. She quickly checks the PawsUp forum to see if any of the messages are urgent, and when they aren't she throws the phone across the room. It's 6:10 now, and work starts at 8. She takes 10 more minutes.

Shower, clothes, toast with jam, potatoes, tofu, meds taken, teeth brushed, out the door. She starts the day as she has since high school, a quick shower to wake her up and stretches she learned from fencing classes. She eats a breakfast of toast with strawberry jam, microwave potato and tofu scramble and strong coffee. She can't ride her bike to the factory, there's nowhere to lock it up, so she has to take the bus. It makes a few connections and as usual she's a few minutes late to work. Poppy stops into the changing room to put on her jumpsuit, vest and hat before going out to the floor. Her antlers, shaved down stubs no more than 2 inches long apeice, get covered with bits of foam. They poke out of the top of her hat, and with the brightly colored foam balls it draws everyones attention. Every knows her as 'antler girl,' the concept of trans people alluding the machine operators. She gets to her post and starts checking all of the wiring on the right side that likes to come loose as the injection molding machine runs.

something comes to the front of Poppy's mind, something dark and threatening. The pounding machine can no longer drown out the sound of her own self hatred. She sees herself running, running down a long hallway lined with stained glass windows. Nothing ornate, even, mass produced ones like you'd see in an old church. She doesn't know what exactly she's running from, but whatever it is it's only getting closer. She closes her eyes tight, trying to clear her head, but the vision is still there. She hums a tune, a blues song she heard on a radio station once on a roadtrip. She remembers being that little, going north with her family. The thoughts of better things up north keep her moving through another day in paradise.

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