Dear Wigleaf,

There's a rabbit man following me around Memphis. He's about 6'5 (7'5 counting the ears) and carries a jumbo pack of Twizzlers. At night he sits on the roof of the garage across the street and watches the FedEx planes come in to land, chewing his way down a rubbery stalk.

I've been getting out after work and going through the motions: knit nights, a walking group, yoga class. Trying to meet people, to start over. He watches from park benches or nearby driveways. At the grocery store he waits for me at the end of every aisle, leaning on the endcaps where they put the seasonal candy.

Don't think Donnie Darko. He has a real rabbit head, eyes always scanning. When I drive, he rides in the back seat with his big feet propped up on the box of car fluids. There's no AC back there, and his Twizzlers clump together from the heat.

Sometimes I don't see him for hours— I think that's when he reports back to whoever sent him.

When he reappears he always stands a little closer. I hold my laundry basket up to him like, see? I subscribe to a local events newsletter, make a big show of unloading my loud dishwasher. But I don't think he's buying it. Last night when I looked for him across the street, he was down on the sidewalk instead, staring up at my window.

Stay in touch,

Natalie