ZION

Why can’t I ever see these kinds of moments? Why was my insight so selective? No amount of massaging eased the headache I was currently experiencing. 

“I’m sorry,” I laughed. “These are what now?”

“Options,” Eza grinned. “For your penis problem.”

On the center table, arranged in neat, horrifying rows, were… penises. Or at least molds of them. Stone. Wood. Wax. One that glowed faintly purple. Another made entirely of shimmering glass. All ...