Second Prize winner of the 12th Annual Literal Literary Postcard Story Contest

Hey! The weather’s here, wish you were beautiful, ha ha ha. Just wanted to let you know I’m doing ok. I’m in the blue swimsuit, second from the left! They say grief makes you gorge yourself non-stop but I don’t think I’ve eaten in two weeks—must be all the tears blocked up inside have swollen me up. Or the vino (kidding). The drive down was ok but every time I drive over a bridge that looks like Champlain I get a panic attack. No wonder. You can tell Pap if you ever see him sober that addiction is genetic. I never thought she’d do that though… Hope she’s finally happy. I emailed work and told them they could f--k off, I’m not their slave. One day off for a funeral and that’s it? Jesus. Don’t worry. I guess I’ll find another shitty job when I get back. I just had to get away from Montreal (and everything) but all you hear down here is French, especially in Bealls Outlet. Guess you can’t ever escape. Remember the time she went binge-shopping in there and came home with $300 of stuff for everyone? Makes you sick how she ended up with nothing. The exchange rate sucks now. Wish we could exchange a lot of things, but the past’s the past, right? In the meantime I just need room… I chill on the beach by myself, listening to the ocean. Sounds kinda like being inside a womb, if you know what I mean. Makes me wonder why some people even bother to get born. See you in a couple more weeks—hope you recognize me! *lmao*