To the person who stole my wallet yesterday while on the subway in Mexico City with my fiance, I’m sorry. I don’t know why you felt the need to reach into my pocket as the crowd shoved its way into the train car and take what was not yours, but I pray there was a good reason–perhaps your kids are starving and you can’t find a job, perhaps a loved one is sick, perhaps you never learned the difference between right and wrong.
For each of these things, you cannot be blamed, and I am sorry.
Time passed. I had every intent to write “Something About Driving” and finish it, but instead I got carried away, In Amarantis Sedicia, and never came back to it. Like that piece of creative nonfiction I mentioned, I wrote it, but then I left it. Except here the story got clogged even before I got that far, coagulated in my throat and stopped moving.
At least frogs can hop out, you know? Clots just sit there till they kill you when you least expect it.