by Danielle Apfelbaum
The few words we knew, we knew well: compleanno, sorpressa, torta, morire. The canned situations – a cinch: we could humor the crossing guard, flirt with the malcontent waitress sardonically bearing her breasts at the bar. We could ditch of the dull museo, find the stadium, chug birra fredda. The trick: filling the page after that. But there would always be weather and some way to feel about something. There would be birthdays, too – an ambush in an unexpected place: family, candles, cake. And to conclude, to put the whole damn test to bed, we’d have our sweet protagonists drop dead.
D. S. Apfelbaum is studying to be an archivist. She blogs at http://thebookofdan.wordpress.com/.
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