The Ex Talk

by Rachel Lynn Solomon

When our receptionist Emma took his photo for the website, she blushed the whole time, probably because he’s the only guy here under thirty who isn’t an intern. In the picture, he’s serious except for one corner of his mouth, the tiniest parenthesis tugging his lips to one side. I stared at that corner for a long time when the photo was posted, wondering why Kent hired someone who’d never set foot inside a radio station.

He crosses his arms over his chest, which draws more attention to his bare forearms and the pattern of dark hair that disappears into his sleeves. I’ve always been a forearm girl—a man rolling his shirt to the elbows is basically foreplay for me—and it’s a crime that such nice ones are wasted on him.

“Make people cry, and then make them laugh,” my dad would say. “But most of all, make sure you’re telling a good story.”