Dear Dr. Hanson, Nurse Cache and Lisa:
I just wanted to write this note thanking you all for working these many years to keep me upright and nominally functional. Very kind of you all, and one of my few fond memories of Penurburg, along with the many students at Penurburg State, and my dentist. You guys are the best and have my unending appreciation.
I have, after many months, engaged the services of a scoundrel here in North Carolina, a GP with a similarly dour staff, and it was with a heavy heart that I dropped on him my 274 pages of medical history from P’burg Clinic. “What?” he said. “Huh?” And so on. His office, a small, dark affair, at the rear of a stable (itself a converted gasoline station), barely the size of a humidor, is a spare and lonely place. There I sit looking at an empty fishbowl with a solitary guppy navigating in endless circles in an inch of cloudy water.
So it goes. I remain, alone, facing the abyss.
Pierre L’Grommet has published short fiction in Damaged Goods, Topsail Literary Review, Mozambique, and elsewhere. He lives on Knotty Island off the coast of North Carolina.