The white girl called while I was in the middle of making a mess. "Meet me," she said. I said I wouldn't but I knew I would. I was burning water, screwing up specially for the wifely woman. It took a lot out of me to be nice and I needed to dump my self-respect. "I got rid of everything," she said. "My apartment is empty." I wondered if she was leaving, if this was goodbye. "I want you to stand in the middle. I want you to be furniture." I had nothing to leave in that apartment but myself.
At Least I Felt Bad Afterward
Copyright©2011 Matthew Salesses
Matthew Salesses is the author of Our Island of Epidemics and the forthcoming The Last Repatriate (Nouvella Books). He edits fiction for the Good Men Project Magazine. "At Least I Felt Bad Afterward" is from a series entitled, I'm Not Saying, I'm Just Saying.