First time I saw you, I was at the wheel
of a powerboat, bone-rattle slamming
over the roiling waves. I was decked out
in rubber suit, goggles, breathing
apparatus. The full man-of-action kit.
I was pumped up, ready to dive, emerge,
scramble over rocks, haul myself
through crevices and up gradients,
basically the whole Milk Tray scenario.

Let my grants be bountiful,
And my meal plan be plenty.
Let my boxed wine runneth over.

When things go wrong in my life, I blame it on the fact that no one in my family knows what day my birthday is.

It was the morning of my eighth birthday when it was brought to my attention that I’d had the wrong date for my birthday.

For eight years.

Short Stories: Priyanka Kole, “What’s wrong?” Jeff Coe, “A Not-So-Very-Special Episode of ‘Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives’” J.D. Harlock, “Matching With A Mermaid” Miriam Jayaratna, “A Day in the Life of a Dinner Plate with Decorative Ambitions” Arie Kaplan, “Previously on ‘Time Sock: The Sock That Travels Through Time’” Nathan Leslie, “I Freaking Love You!” Prarthana

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Please accept this as the cover letter for my story, Exactly What Happened to Me “That” Day, and Why.  I hope you like it.  But more than anything, I especially hope you get this letter and that you answer it.  I can’t tell you how excited I am.  Though you wouldn’t know it, I have quite a history with you, and seeing your name (Is Bigfoot your name?  If not, what is your name?) and your picture on the Defenestration website was such a bolt out of the blue that, well, it just has to be a sign.