Tesla on the Grass, Alas by Esther M. Friesner (Parsec #1, Autumn 2021) appears to be about a man who talks to a woman called Gertrude before (spoiler) turning some sort of ray gun on himself—but I’m not entirely sure (it is written in prose that, from the opening paragraphs, verges on the impenetrable):
What there was in her that was beautiful was what I saw. No ray that I could make could be her elegant equal yet I knew the one I made would be the equalizing force that was forced between us, between her and me. She was my taunting point of equilibrium, reached and unreachable. Her mass obeyed the Newtonian law that thus far in my life I had risen above in all things except the shackling demands of gravity. It drew me to her, helpless once I wandered within her field and found that I was drawn despite me to that quality in women which I previously found myself unable to stomach, their stomachs, the rolling terrain of mountainous flesh that offered me the threat of avalanche–inspired entombment with each embrace. p. 40
– (Awful). 1,050 words. Parsec website.