It went like: we were in the park and the grass was tall as
skyscrapers, there was this cricket, he was wearing a
North Face windbreaker and he had a big backpack, he
opened it up and inside he had boxes of crayons, the
kind restaurants used to give us when we were kids, the
packs of four, red, yellow, green, blue, always
in that order, then we weren’t in the park anymore, we were in
a school, the old Baptist elementary next to the
Bank of America, the one with the teal exterior, I know we
never went there, just drove past it a lot, and I know we
never saw the inside, but somehow I knew this was the
place, and the bell was sounding, except the peal was just the
sound of frogs croaking, it was just like those nights out at the
cabin in Michigan, all that ribitting, but anyways, then I started
feeling sick, so you and I, we went searching for the nurse’s
office, but the school wasn’t a school anymore, it was
a quaint European town, I’ve never been to Europe, but I really
liked your stories from your summer in Mojacar, and well,
because I’d never been to Europe, you were the one navigating, and
well, because you were navigating, I had to call you Captain, Cap
for short, and you turned around and called me Stella, like your
old dog, Stella, who we said got lost in the clouds because
it hurt too much to say that she died, when you came back from
the vet’s office you sat on my floor and cried, I cried, too,
but I cried after you had left, so you never saw, and I realized
if I was Stella, that meant I was lost in the clouds, and sure
enough, I rubbed my eyes and you were gone, and it took me
years, years and years, but I finally found you again, in a
pink marble sitting inside a miniature mailbox that was on
actually a cactus, it was strange, but it made sense, I swear, and
you were there, there in the glass, and I held you in my hands and we danced.
I know it’s been a while since we talked last, but I don’t know.
I had this weird dream and it got me thinking.
About you.
***
Sofia Eun-Young Guerra is a Mexican-Korean writer from Tacoma, Washington. Her work has previously appeared and is forthcoming in The Inflectionist Review, fifth wheel press, Blue Marble Review, and others. Outside of writing, she spends her time folding origami butterflies and reading about sharks.
***
image: Claire Hopple is the author of six books. Her fiction has appeared in Wigleaf, Vol. 1 Brooklyn, Forever Mag, Peach Mag, and others. She’s the fiction editor at XRAY. More at clairehopple.com.
Rejection Letters 