When the garbage man rides by, I pull up my top. He can't see me because I have tinted living room windows. One day, I hope to introduce myself to him in real life. After that, the rest of my week feels empty. They come on Wednesday, so it takes me until Sunday to start feeling like myself again. My garbage is full of avocado, banana, and orange peels to show I care about my health. The ice cream buckets get shoved to the bottom. I know his name, because it’s written in red stitching on his denim shirt: Leo.
Aimee LaBrie’s short stories have appeared in the The Minnesota Review, Iron Horse Literary Review, StoryQuarterly, Cimarron Review, Pleiades Magazine, Fractured Lit, Permafrost, and others. aimeelabrie.wixsite.com/website