It’s been a year since Slink Chunk Press published this short story, so to honor the occasion I am reprinting it here. Enjoy!
They say that everything is made from everything. Matter never disappears, it just becomes new matter. A cell from your skin catches a southeast breeze and eventually gets inhaled by a penguin; an atom expelled in some dinosaur dung finds its way over the eons to your pomegranate tea; a molecule from the sweat that glistened on Caesar’s temple evaporated and is now raining into your car through the window you left open.
We’re all just cosmos junk, recycled. Never ending, only changing. Ever since the universe’s first big sneeze, all that energy has been riding its waves wherever it can go, moving from one place to another. Perpetual tourists, all of us.
So then what happens if a bit of energy changes its mind? Has a change of heart on the metaphysical interstate and decides to detour over the center divider, head the opposite way?
Decides to come back?
There are few things more grating to me than the insta-love trope seen so often in fiction. This device essentially involves shoving two characters in the same room, then poking them with a stick until they have nowhere else to go but each other’s arms.
The development of their relationship usually looks like this:
Last Friday, after three and a half months of finger-crossing, I received a verdict from the agent who was reading my first novel, Milo & Violet. Alas, it was a pass. My first agent rejection! Woo! I’m in the club! The reason she gave is that the book is too much a blend of genres, which is the least-negative reason I could possibly hope for, so that’s cool. Forging onwards!
When I started this process I made a vow that with every rejection I would treat myself to an éclair or some other form of scrumptious. Because something good should happen when you get The Big R, right? Right. Though I might just be looking for more excuses to eat éclairs.
“Grandma’s in the hospital? I’ll get the éclairs.”
“Oh gosh the toilet is overflowing. Better eat an éclair.”
“It’s Tuesday. Éclair!”