The Coochie Diaries
Sienna managed, her own voice sounding thin and reedy to her ears.
Daisy’s eyes, the color of a summer sky after rain, swept over Sienna. They didn’t skim; they saw. They took in Sienna’s carefully arranged chestnut bob, her tasteful navy trench coat, and the subtle pearl studs in her ears. A small, knowing smile touched Daisy’s lips, as if she could see the entire quiet tragedy of Sienna’s life written in her polite posture.
“He wouldn’t order the book,” Daisy said, jerking her thumb back toward the store. “Said it was ‘too niche.’ It’s a graphic novel about queer surrealist poets in the 1920s. How is that niche? It’s essential.”
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