Trash Day Again

This week I thought I'd clean out all the old stories I have no intention to use anymore and put them out by the curb. Today's selection is NOT FOR CHILDREN.

A while back I thought it might be a fun writing exercise to use the subject lines of various spam emails I received as a jumping-off point for very short fiction. Then I went on to write only two such pieces. This is one of them AND IT IS NOT APPROPRIATE FOR CHILDREN.

Re: bookcase Are you ignoring me? dandelion

Dear Dandelion,

Of course I'm not ignoring you. I've just had a lot on my mind. I'm sorry things haven't been easy lately--I don't know why they haven't. But I thank you for asking me directly. I think we really need to clear the air here in the study, and I'm not talking about the cat boxes.

Although, seriously: could you scoop those? The cats aren't even aiming for the box anymore.

You say you look at me now and see nothing but row after row of books, and every spine turned against you. Be fair---I'm a bookcase. You knew that when you met me. When you met me that summer Sunday at Ikea.

It was like something from a movie: a blond, firm-shelved bookcase named Billy catches the eye of the young Dandelion, who aches to fill the emptiness of her first off-campus apartment. I know I'm not high class. I know I was a bit of a do-it-yourself project in the beginning, but all you saw was potential. Do you remember installing the optional glass and wood veneer frame hinged doors? With help from your roommate who smells like garlic all the time? I remember the first time you opened my doors. You used to open them all the time.

I guess that's it. I just don't feel like you've needed me much lately. I know you're busy, with school and all. Hell, it could be worse. I could be with someone who doesn't even have books. I could be nothing but someone's entertainment center, holding up a fucking TV right now. And I know nobody's going to want sloppy seconds with a cheap piece of ash pressboard from Ikea. You could probably put me out on the street right now and I wouldn't be able to give myself away. I'm yours.

Look, we'll get through this. I'm sorry I've been so distant. I only ask that you give me a dusting now and then. Maybe a good polishing on our anniversary.

Sincerely,

Bookcase