While sitting in your apartment, the universe implodes. The corners of reality fold inward like the cheeks of someone sucking on a lemon. Life becomes a tiny dot. Your downstairs neighbors start arguing, and it sounds like they’re shouting right into your ear. It’s not all bad. Since everyone’s so close together, whenever someone says, “I love you,” it’s almost like they’re saying it to the whole world at once. Eventually, the gravity of existence becomes too heavy. Bang! You and everyone else go flying outward.
Back sitting in your apartment, you hear muffled yelling below. Not knowing what else to do, you get on your knees next to the heating vent. Through the little slats, you whisper, “I love you.” The fighting stops. Silence. Then you stick your ear to the vent and wait for them to say something back.
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 Florida Review, Wigleaf, Pinch, The Cincinnati Review, The Forge, Passages North, Tampa Review, and elsewhere. Connect on Bluesky at @willmusgrove.bsky.social or at williammusgrove.com.
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