Dear Wigleaf,

Times have been tough here in Muncie, Indiana. All is flatness. Gas is high, sky is low. Jobs are leaking. Winter has been one big, long hangover. Most of us suffer Seasonal Affective Disorder (or SAD), but we never call it that.

One time I kissed a young red-headed nurse in a supply closet of a hospital, but that's hardly relevant here.

Thank gods for Thai food! Thank gods for running trails. Thank gods for disc golf, and disc golf discs, their sweet, sweet flight. Thank gods for the flowing White River and red canoes. Thank gods for The Heorot, a local bar named after the meeting hall in Beowulf. They serve about ten-zillion dank, dank beers.

I want to say right here I like Mark Neely and Ander Monson. And also my backyard. It's full of birds and squirrels and soccer balls and maybe a Lowenbrau can or two (I'm about to go out there and pick those up). But I digress.

We have all of this in Muncie, Indiana (except for Ander—he lives in Michigan but is moving to Arizona). Come visit some time. I suggest the summer.

For much better, or for much worse,

Sean


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Sean Lovelace writes and reads and publishes flash fiction. He teaches writing at Ball State University, a pretty great place. That's about it.

Photo detail on main page courtesy of Chris Phan.


Read SL's story, "Crow of No Goodbyes."

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