Dear Wigleaf,

I was in such a rush, I did it again. Forgot to poke my head in your door while you cooked up some noodles for those babies of yours. Forgot to ask for a favor while I'm gone. My worried heart needs mending, you see. Had to get away. A quick fix of sunsets stealing behind mountains and bourbon on ice and lips against hidden flesh.

Could you see to it that the salvia gets watered? The swallowtails enjoy the spiked sweetness and I don't want anyone going hungry because of me. Including you! Pick a few handfuls of beans I've got growing near the fence—steamed and tossed with vinegar is the easiest way to flirt with a new summer. Keep the newspapers for yourself. No need for me to catch up on bad news... there'll always be more. Better yet: toss the whole damn lot of them. You don't need that nonsense either. Which reminds me: can you put my trash out at the curb? The mail can go in the basket on the kitchen table, maybe put any letters on top so I see them first. You know where we keep the spare key.

One last thing: tell my daughter I love her—she's at her gramma's house. Silly, yes. But how many of us can ever say for certain we'll make it back home to say it ourselves?

You've always been a good neighbor. I'm guessing you won't mind.

xo
K




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Read KMP's story.

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