This is a story where nothing happens, but not really. It’s a story about you, about you reading this story when you could be doing anything else. You could be washing the dishes. Or maybe you and the story could wash the dishes together. Or maybe you could remember how you had always planned to wash the dishes with the story, splashing each other with soapy water like a couple in a romantic comedy. Or maybe you could think about how the story used to sit on your back deck every full moon and pretend it was on another planet, about how moonlight coated everything in silver. Or maybe you could build a rocket ship. Or maybe you could travel to the stars in search of the story’s imaginary planet. Or maybe you could land on the story’s planet only to discover it’s not there waiting for you. Or maybe you could try to win the story back, promising to change. Or maybe you could write a different story, one where the story is waiting for you on that distant planet, one where you and the story fall in love. You and this story could do anything. You and this story are good together. But like all things that are good together, they eventually stop being good together. You’ll stop reading, and this will go back to just being a story where nothing happens, but not really.
Will Musgrove is a writer and journalist from Northwest Iowa. He received an MFA from Minnesota State University, Mankato. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in The Penn Review, Passages North, Pinch, Wigleaf, The Forge, Tampa Review, and elsewhere. Connect on Twitter at @Will_Musgrove or at williammusgrove.com.
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