Remember when you last told your friend about this time that the two of you did something? Yeah, you remember. Happens all the time, right? That wistfulness for bygone days. I remember when I got out of high school and started beginning every sentence with "I remember . . ." and every question with "You remember . . . ?" I loved high school, this despite all the stress that high school inevitably bears down on a kid, and for the first several years afterward, really, until I left California, I missed it. Now, now, I don't remember it. Or if I do, it doesn't seem nearly so grand as it did then, in those few years right after, when the life that follows seems so utterly disappointing, utterly lacking in the fulfillment of all those hopes one has when younger.
Corey Zeller's "Oh Girl" is a story about remembering, a story about telling your friend about what you remember--or asking your friend about it. Only there's a sadness here, because, as with all such sentimental memories, something is missing, something that means that remembrance will never be something you'll have again. Though my life has never been as risky as this story's narrator's, I, too, am one of the lucky ones who has gone on to be able to ask, "Remember?" and to know that for some, the answer is no because they're no longer there to answer. Read the story here at Word Riot.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
On "Oh Girl" by Corey Zeller (940 words) ***
Labels:
Corey Zeller,
Flash Fiction,
Stories,
Three-Star Stories,
Word Riot
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