Dave at the Sink
Dave is in the kitchen, listening to the radio: a scientist bemoaning the death of butterflies. How many Monarchs are there? Enough to make the boughs of giant trees bend beneath their weight, even while each one weighs less than a paper clip.
He empties the dishwasher, aimless as ever. First a pink glass, then two forks, then three plates (one chipped) and a glass again – a French jelly jar. Through the window over the sink, the garage seems to tilt, one side bulging up, off the foundation. Dave opens the door, and there it is, an immense fissure. Birds dart out of the silver maple, a squirrel leaps over the jagged hole. Animal chatter drowns out the radio, even while each chirp, each caw, is no sharper than a keyboard’s middle C.
Gail Louise Siegel’s work has appeared across the web and in print, from Ascent, Elm Leaves and FRiGG, to Post Road, StoryQuarterly and Wigleaf. She has an MFA from Bennington College and lives in Evanston, Illinois.