KIM TALBERT

FICTION

lonely

The Writer writes to make herself feel better. Her wallet, not so much. She calls up the local bookstore.

“Hello, are you there?”

“Yes, I’m here. This is Charity. May I help you?”

“Do you have a chapbook called Lonely? It came out last month.”

“Just give me a minute. Yes, I found the one and only copy. Would you like me to set it aside?”

“Does it have a description?”

“Lonely woman can’t get out of bed. Yawn. Don’t bother.”

“Is that on the inside cover?” The Writer’s voice rises to a level she doesn’t recognize.

Charity laughs. “No, that’s what my coworker wrote on a sticky note. Would you still like it?”

The Writer hangs up the phone and reconsiders.

missing

There’s a small crowd on Zoom. 10, maybe 11, if you count the older man messing with his dogs in the background. Doesn’t seem like he’s listening, but whatever. 

The Writer begins to read. 

“The Writer lives in a cardboard box surrounded by her leftovers, talking to no one. It’s been 100 days since she’s seen another soul.”

“Ooh. Why is she surrounded by her leftovers? Throw that shit out.” The man with the dogs doesn’t realize he’s not muted anymore.

He speaks again. “Paul, can you get the front door? I’m expecting a package.”

The Writer leans over into her laptop and whispers, “Excuse me, could you turn your microphone off? I can hear you.”

The man’s now juggling five books, some papers and one small dog. He doesn’t hear the Writer. 

The Writer continues.

“The streets outside are filled with sludge and sunshine. The waves of dissent so high, crickets chirping to the heavens.”

“Chirping to the heavens? How could crickets get up that high? Did they ride on that wave of dissent? Come on.” The man looks into his laptop camera and adjusts his hair. He yawns so wide The Writer can see his back teeth. 

The Writer sighs, but not too much, and continues. “Back in Florida, before it all went crazy.”

“How could a whole state go crazy? What the hell?”

The Writer bows her head and pretends not to notice. She sits back up. “Then one day, there was a rude gentleman who kept interrupting the Writer. He doesn’t know her story. He doesn’t know that her last dollar bill is sitting on her kitchen table. This is the way she makes her bread. She pops it in the oven, waits for it to bake, takes it out and hopes for a bread miracle.”

The man with the dogs and the books and the roommate leans over his laptop and says, “What did you say? I missed it.”

sad. smug. smile. 

“Do you ever wish you did something else? You know, more meaningful?” He drops the pea back on to the fancy plate and pushes it around, scolding it like a child.

“What do you mean by more meaningful? Like if I had become a doctor and I spent my days saving lives?” The Writer contemplates her existence.

He smiles that sad smug smile. “No. I meant, if you could do anything, what would it be?”

“Why can’t it be what I’m doing right now?

“But, it’s not really keeping you afloat, you know?”

“I would rather be poor and happy.”

“I saw your piece today. In that magazine with the fancy name.” 

“That magazine with the fancy name pays my bills.”

“Bills?”

“Okay, it paid for one pack of gum and half a tank of gas, but still, it was meaningful.”

“It was a story about laundry.”

“Happy laundry.”

“How can laundry be happy? You’re exhausting.”

“Yes, but I have happy laundry.”

reach out

He leaves at 3 in the morning because he’s a coward, and the lights aren’t yet on in his real house. 

The Writer picks up her phone and dials a number unfamiliar to her.

“Hello?”

“Yes, hello. Do you have a minute? Can I read you a story?”

“Excuse me? Is this some kind of prank?”

The Writer picks at her nails and sighs. “Sorry. Never mind.”

The Writer hangs up the phone and turns on the television. There’s a movie about a writer who’s stuck in his own story. The Writer turns it off. 

The phone rings. It’s an unfamiliar number. “Hello?”

“So, about that story you wanted to read?”

The Writer smiles and begins to read. “When you’ve been sitting in the same chair for 184 days, you start to notice a few things.”