My Mother Texted That I Was Locked Out, but By Morning I Had Made a Few Calls

with rust in its undercarriage that is significant but not irredeemable. The smell of oil and old metal is pleasant in the particular way it has always been pleasant to me, familiar rather than suffocating, the smell of something that can be understood and corrected if you know what you are doing.

“Emily?”

A voice behind my feet.

I slide out from under continue reading …