A personal note:
Dear ones, I am struggling. The reasons for this are global and national, personal and medical. You may hear from me less frequently for a little while, as my extremely limited energy is diverted toward keeping my body and mind functioning.
Thank you, as always, for being here with me. Please be gentle with yourself and with your fellow frightened creatures.
Remember that they want us exhausted, overwhelmed, isolated, and afraid. They do not want us angry, and they do not want us joyful. They do not want us rested, protected, laughing, or united.
Resist.
My heart is with you,
K
What follows is my first-ever full work of fiction. At 249 words long, it’s technically microfiction—the perfect prose format for a haiku lover like me. This story will also appear in Issue 1 of Crab Tales Magazine.
CW: Food and alcohol mentions.
Honeymoon
The island roads were underwater and the rental car was shit. Her flip-flop slipped against the gas pedal; she kicked it off. Yesterday when the hurricane was still a bruise on the horizon, her boyfriend—no, husband—had gone out for groceries and returned with cabernet instead.
Lights failed in the supermarket as she splashed toward the entrance. She’d spent the morning watching the storm shred the wild hibiscus. Now she waded past buckets of roses and tried not to think about the wedding.
Something brushed against her heel in the half-dark. A caravan of tiny crabs, headed for the bananas. She saw no shoppers, no cashiers, only purposeful squadrons of crabs hefting a baguette, rafting past the tabloids on a four-pack of toilet paper.
The crabs had formed a pyramid in the seafood department, claws stretching hopefully toward the filets. She lifted a whole cod from the melting ice and set it down gently beside them. Sashimi, she decided, and cold tea. She left a damp bill by the register.
The crabs were leaving. With a mouthful of raw fish she followed them onto what had been a road. She watched her feet on the yellow line, the water level rising, the crabs in their thousands marching before her. A memory of her mother at the rehearsal dinner whispering You don’t have to do this—
The parade halted. She looked up. They’d reached their destination.
She polished off the last of the salmon and walked into the sea.
tenderness toward existence days
Note to new subscribers: 1. Hello! 2. This is the part of the newsletter where I offer a curated roundup of tiny, weird, and often confusing holidays you can celebrate over the next few weeks.
February 14 is a favorite for me because I delight in decorating Witch Tree with little red hearts, sending cards to friends and family, and eating candy. The other aspects of the day…not so much. If you’re with me (or if you simply have surplus festive feelings and want a double-decker celebration), here are some alternatives to get you through the week:
February 11 (Today!)
Extraterrestrial Culture Day
Make a Friend’s Day Day
February 12
National Hug Day
February 13
National Internet Friends Day
February 14
International Book Giving Day
February 15
Thank you for staying alive with me. This internet friend is awfully glad you’re here.
You are very talented:
Thank you for staying alive with me.
That one line speaks volumes... Thank you for staying alive for all of us
Sending all the love to you Kate, rest up and take it easy x