Monica Bielanko
That's What She Said
Just A Junk Drawer Dream
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How To Hold In Your Guts With A Gift Card

The woods seem really far away today; probably because it’s winter and we have the windows of the Honda up tight as the radio moves through its songs and the kids are right here behind us, making a racket, and everything outside kind of seems like a movie of outside instead of the real thing.

My wife is reading me notes people mailed to us after they’d heard about our house fire just a few days ago. I’m trying to concentrate on what she’s saying, but, I’m drifting, man.

“I just wanted to say how sorry I am about your loss, but how happy I am that you are all okay,” she reads off a store-bought card. She uses her candied voice, to give this person’s well-wishes a little something extra.

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