Forty women attend a romance workshop.
(from No One Belongs Here More Than You)
Romance is right in front of your face, the instructor says. Not, like, it’s right there and you don’t recognize it — more like that’s where romance exists, or could exist if it exists. Near our cheeks and noses and eyes. It’s a metaphysical power, or possession or invention, that sets us apart from the animals, if we are apart from the animals, if romance exists.
So what if this doesn’t make sense? It’s a short short story. To tell you much would be to tell you too much. Read it yourself.