A car races smoothly across a furrowed yellow and green field. The car is bronze; the top is down. A woman is driving. She brings the car to an abrupt stop and in one brisk movement leaves the car, climbs halfway up an embankment and burrows down on her back. Somehow, it’s clear to me she is exactly where she wants to be as the sun begins to set.
It’s also clear to me that I have had a fever, but I’m better now. A man I can’t name bathed me in cool water and washed my hair. He told me not to slip under the water no matter how tempting. I did not slip and now wear a yellow dress, soft to the touch and smelling of mint.
The woman on the embankment seems content, and without concern about anything such as the approaching cold of night. This may well be because she is wearing a terrific jacket the color of dried tobacco and we all know the power of a well-fitting jacket in a good color. I haven’t been wearing dresses of late but this yellow dress, which is clearly a gift, is convincing me this might be the way to go.
I covet the woman’s contentment so much more than the jacket, more even than the memory of someone washing my hair. Should I find it, I’ll tell myself to lean in as I would toward a right-sized tree laden with moss.
Patricia Bender’s work has been published by Beir Bua Press, Gallery of Readers Press, Good Foot, LIPS, the Paterson Literary Review, Peregrine, Southword, Switch, and in THE GREAT FALLS ANTHOLOGY. A 2026 Pushcart and Best Microfiction nominee, she is also grateful for recognition received in competitions offered by Cutthroat, Over the Edge, and The Allingham Festival. A National Writing Project Fellow, she serves on the Editorial Board of the New Jersey English Journal.
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