“Phish,” by Rita Ciresi
Hello it’s me. I know this may sound odd but it happened very fast. I made a trip to Scotland and someone stole my luggage. Inside was my passport and credit cards and all my memories.
Can you please send me some? Preferably the kind that will melt in my mouth like chili-laced dark chocolate. Some should take place in winter, by a fire, with thick snowflakes pelting the windowpane. Others should involve a sturdy man and rumpled bed sheets with shutters that open onto a stormy sea.
My bank said it would take five working days to access the memories from my account, so time is of the essence. I will reimburse you as soon as I return.
Here it is damp and rainy and doctors call me the lass without a blessed clue who she is. I want to taste yellow, hear cinnamon, see birdsong, but the nurses just cluck their tongues and murmur, take a wee sip of this dram, now, yes.
About the Author:
Rita Ciresi is director of creative writing at the University of South Florida and author of six works of fiction, including the novels Bring Back My Body to Me, Blue Italian, Pink Slip, and Remind Me Again Why I Married You, and the short-story collections Mother Rocket and Sometimes I Dream in Italian.
Image Credit: © vilnarobotav3d / Dollar Photo Club