we pick up nails after the builders, and pull bodies out of the pond so the right ones can find the poor souls. and you might have even seen us in the periphery of the camera on your doorbells, mentioned us at the HOA meetings, understandably concerned, as the president of the committee is blanketed with the smell of a starched collar and marlboros and you can’t really get your words out right. we don’t often use words, keep to ourselves when we visit, the pantries so stale and full of air and darkness as we stay there for what you might describe as hours — not minding at all.
Caleb Bethea (he/him) is a second-year MFA at the University of Carolina, studying fiction by night. By day, he works in the digital world of marketing. But the best of his time is spent with his wife and two kids by the ocean. He tweets at @caleb_bethea_