Haleigh Yaspan

Like a betrothed couple with a pair of his-and-hers axes to grind, I set the following table: the physics professor you described as the worst person ever born in Austria; the masseuse whose vow of urban serenity was undercut by a chorus of automotive whines to which she had long since grown deaf; the cousin who warned me about his brother as though we were not both aware I had already been more convincingly warned about him. I leave a seat or two empty to cultivate an air of mystery – so hard to come by at these things. You shelter each grudge like a stray, fed for its constancy and compliance. For the most part, I tell the truth the best way I know how to tell it. One unit of unconquerable treasure lurks in deep waters. I am assured through pursed lips that this poses no threat to humans. Well, and what have we learned? When overhead lighting proves unreliable, floor lamps work fine. In your first labor, you have twice as much time to get to the hospital as you think you do, and roughly tenfold the time you would want. He who complains about his neighbor’s personal security system as an infringement upon his right to privacy will find himself, one day shortly thereafter, burglarized, adrift, made to slink bashfully toward the offending unit to beg for the footage. The law is clear on this.