I stopped at the corner outside the church and looked down Maribelle’s street. Outside her house stood a for-sale sign, a representation of my impotence. What does it say when the person looking for happiness finds none in me? On the road home I kicked gravel with my heavy shoes. People passed me in their cars, always waving. The Sunday sun was out and it was beautiful. Across the street, people broke the Sabbath at the gas station. Non-Mormon patrons sipped coffee outside a busy cafe, impervious and smiling. Uninvolved birds danced rituals in the trees. Regardless of me, the world turned, and I found myself back at the dinner table, bowing my head for the fifth time that day, thanking God, thanking God.
Tanner Lee lives in Salt Lake City, Utah, USA. His writing appeared in Hobart Pulp, The Daily Drunk, West Trade Review, Weber: The Contemporary West, The Comstock Review, Entropy, and The Cardiff Review. Find him on Twitter at @heytannerlee.