Shallots

By Rachel M. Hollis

My therapist says I apologize too much so I promised to track it:

  • Left the oven on while I ran to the store (forgot the shallots)

  • Bumped a stranger’s arm (he reached across me)

  • Held up the checkout line (a lot on my mind)

  • Cut off the slowest driver on the way home (oven was on)

  • Smoke alarm went off (burned the shallots)

  • Ruined dinner. Again (according to him)

  • Cried (“manipulative,” he said)

  • Loaded the dishwasher wrong (he left his plate in the sink)

  • Stared at the front door (not sorry)

 

I flip the page over:

I don’t want to upset you but I’m leaving

I think maybe I’m not happy

Please don’t try to stop me

I love you

Rachel M. Hollis lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband, child, and a deeply unmotivated dog. Her work appears or is forthcoming in River Teeth’s Beautiful Things, Midway Journal, Lost Balloon, Gone Lawn, Necessary Fiction, and elsewhere.

Artwork by Patience Bryant (Graphite and Colored Pencil Drawing)

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