I come upon every new year with a weird sort of melancholy, and one tradition is letting loose a good, long cry. So after I snotted one out in the shower on January 1 and emerged pale and death-like from the bathroom, I sank into the couch and checked email. At the top was an update from a literary magazine; an essay I submitted was rejected. They really need money, though, so... would I like to donate? Well, it cost $23 to submit in the first place. So... no.
Instead of letting a snotty lit journal leave me down in the dumps at the start of the year, I worked on it, a story about an unexpected, crazy, cool thing that happened before my wedding. And no, it's not about how my DJ showed up three minutes before the ceremony after his car broke down and didn't tell me, or how my flower crown arrived with about four buds on it, making me look--in some pictures--like tiny balls of lint were sprouting out of my scalp.
Anyway, it's a bit on the longer side and it's called, "MOUSE!"
Happy New Year. Hope everyone got in a good cry.