Local Woman Missing

by Mary Kubica

The epidural slows Shelby’s progression. What was quick is now slow.

This may be top five worst lines ever written

Josh is looking at me. He’s incredibly handsome. Josh has always been incredibly handsome. He’s dapper. His suit is slim-fitting, navy. He has many suits. While other men collect cigars or license plates, Josh collects suits. Some are tailor-made and others off the rack. He’s always trying to impress. He has a likable personality, a gravitational field. People are drawn to him. He’s outgoing. His smile lights up a room. Everyone likes Josh.

Pls

I never noticed the whir of the ceiling fan, but the absence of it I do. The absence of it is deafening.

It’s all vodka and beer.

Girl what

In the parking lot, a 1970s neon sign flashes Vacancy, advertising rooms for just fifty dollars a night or two hundred a week. I’m guessing much of the clientele is homeless. They live here.

Im trying not to scream

I’m buzzed. Things happen in slow motion. My depth perception is off. I feel disconnected, but still cognizant because the buzz is wearing off.

I cant

She stands in the yard. The yard is wooded. The neighborhood is hundreds of years old. Some of the trees were here before the homes. They provide coverage. No one can see us, we think.

Ai would never

when I wake up, Josh is gone. Beside me, on the nightstand, is a tepid coffee. The bedroom smells of his cologne. He was here. But now he’s not.

The only light comes from outside, though the day is gray. Hardly any light gets in.

The garage spins. The cold garage floor catches me, and then, all there is, is blackness.

Bea is in the driver’s seat. Bea is driving my car.

The roof is a gable roof.

Kids are more buoyant than adults. They’re quicker to bounce back.

Shes seventeen?????