We start by lighting candles, two white, two red, all of them tall and spindly like fingers reaching toward a promise. Then comes the prayer. Closing our eyes, we recite the words we know by heart, a polyphonous melody, dissonant and grotesque: Cross the bunny ears. Pull them through. We do not know to whom we pray. All we know is that our plea must be spoken out loud, our helplessness be made manifest on our tongues so it doesn’t rot in our stomachs. Finally, we can begin. I let go of your hand. The bus takes you away. I listen for your voice, but all I can hear is the rapid gunfire of my heartbeat. Tomorrow, I will light another candle.
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Elena Zhang is a freelance writer and mother living in Chicago. Her work can be found in HAD, JAKE, Bright Flash Literary Review, Bending Genres, and Your Impossible Voice. Find her on twitter @ezhang77
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image: Ashley Beresch. Check out more of her work on Instagram @ashleyberesch
Rejection Letters 