by Ian GRODY

Shit shit shit. I’m ma­te­ri­al­iz­ing, I’m ma­te­ri­al­iz­ing — I am late, I am rac­ing, I am — woof — yes, here. I am HERE.

Wait, where is… ?

Oh god. Oh lord no. How could I space? How could I miss the moth­er­fuck­ing memo for the SECOND TIME this month?

To: ALL CLOUDS. Sub­ject Line: Sat­ur­day — Not An Us in the Sky.

Per­fect. Ju­u­u­u­u­ust per­fect. I can guess how this is gonna go. “Clas­sic Craig. His uncle’s a tsuna­mi, that nepo-va­por nev­er de­served the job in the first —”

Wait. 

Omg, omg I’m not alone. I think that’s Ja­son. JASON!

Fuck me, it’s a seagull. 

Cmon, bud­dy, keep it to­geth­er, Everybody’s look­ing. Why wouldn’t they? Bright blue sky. Ran­do at­mos­pher­ic element. 

My con­den­sa­tion dysmorphia’s kick­ing in. They’re say­ing I’m too fluffy. If they’re not say­ing it they’re think­ing it. Big dumb ball of bitch ass H2O.

Breathe. You’re spiraling. 

Maybe text your ther­a­pist. Sure it’s the week­end. But you pay her a for­tune and it’s all out of pock­et. Plus this is lit­er­al­ly what she’s for. 

I can’t. She’ll judge me. She’ll roll her eyes like she did that one time when I brought up my ex; she de­nies it but I’m not blind. I’M NOT BLIND, BARBARA.

Christ, I promised my­self I wouldn’t pre­cip­i­tate. Ack, can’t hold it. Here I go. Don’t you rain. Don’t you rain now.

I know… I shouldn’t… but maybe… (mist) maybe (MIST)…  it’s bet­ter this way.

Filed under Fiction on April 11th, 2025

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