Nobody Is Ever Missing

by Catherine Lacey

The bus driver said, You’re welcome, and I wondered if he knew what else I was.

Werner knew or understood that or maybe he didn’t understand but it didn’t matter if he knew it or not because whether or not he knew, I believed it was understood.

husband was saying, Elyria, it’s like this, you have two options—and I was thinking, Fuck you so much, Husband, it’s not like that and I have a lot more than two options

and even though I was taking the burned ones out because they weren’t edible, I ate them because, at the moment, I thought it would be better if everyone learned to consume their own mistakes.

Standing in front of me was a man with a bald spot, a sign I could trust this man because he, too, knew loss.