Signs cluster excitedly on street corners, planted like implausible flowers next to non-functioning stoplights: "Trash Removal!" "We Restore Old Photo's!" "50 Signs for $50!" It looks like Election Day, but instead of choosing your representative, you're electing people to help rebuild your life.
Nestled among the advertisements for contractors and demolition specialists are hand-lettered signs, like roses amid the dandelions. Supermarkets, family restaurants, bars, all announcing some variation of the same phrase.
We are open. We are here. This city is our home. Come to us and be fed. Break bread with your neighbors. Rejoice that you're alive and hungry.
(100 words)
oh Dana. that is beautiful
We are open. We are here. This city is our home. Come to us and be fed. Break bread with your neighbors. Rejoice that you're alive and hungry.
This broke me a little. Wonderful drabble, Dana.
What Lisah and AmyLiz said.
DAMN, Dana. Way to put your money where your mouth is. And now I want enough beignets to induce a sugar coma.
Mmmm, beignets. Damn fine drabble, Dana.
Thanks, guys.
And I have to say that the "Photo's" is genuine, and that the misplaced apostrophe made me cringe every time I saw it.
This is a very weird day for book stuff.
1. Jonathan Karp passed on the Kinkaids. BAD.
2. The editor of the Seal anthology of women writers writing about illness, age, and how their bodies' frailties affect their work cut about a third of the writers from the list. The editor was apparently "fierce" that "I want Grabien's essay in here". GOOD.
3. My editor SMP - well. Check it out for yourselves. Murder at the Flatiron is written by Ruth Cavin, the imprints EIC and my personal editor for Haunted Ballads. Good, I think?
Can you pitch the Kinkaids elsewhere? I loved the ending of one you did.
