Olga was fast as a muscle car, one of those girls. There on Friday, gone by Monday to care for a sick aunt in Florida.
We knew better. We knew she’d be back in nine months, flattened, her brass tarnished. Smudged with the fingerprints of all who had driven her.
Sarah Freligh is the author of Sad Math, winner of the 2014 Moon City Press Poetry Prize and the 2015 Whirling Prize from the University of Indianapolis. Her fiction and poetry have appeared in Sun Magazine, Hotel Amerika, BOAAT Journal, diode, SmokeLong Quarterly, and in the forthcoming anthology New Microfiction: Exceptionally Short Stories (W.W. Norton, 2018). Among her awards are a 2009 poetry fellowship from the National Endowment for the Arts and a grant from the Constance Saltonstall Foundation in 2006.
Good one!
Loved this story. First-rate imagery!
Thanks!
Powerful.
Thanks!