
THE PRIVATE MUSEUM OF MISS MARGARET by Zhu Yue translated by Jianan Qian and Alyssa Asquith
Like some unmarried and childless women, she is aloof, arrogant, and easily annoyed. But this takes nothing away from her great charitable contributions.

Like some unmarried and childless women, she is aloof, arrogant, and easily annoyed. But this takes nothing away from her great charitable contributions.

I realized that I could basically live at the Six Flags Great Adventure amusement park in Jackson Township, New Jersey, if I wanted to… So that became the plan… I got there just before nine in the morning… Bought a season pass… The guy at the ticket booth said the season pass meant I could basically come and go as I pleased for the season, which, you know, was several months… So, obviously, yes… Ahh… As I pleased… And I wholly intended to be pleased… Pleased and amused… A whole park dedicated to being amused… Just as I pleased… A

We liked tabs. Gas masks. We liked getting faced and night surfing with the parked Bronco’s glowing eyes as our landmark when we were out in the lineup.

The rabid snails were completely gone. We would get our deposit back. Probably.

Asa is asleep in the sun, arms track-marked and mosquito-bitten, crossed over his chest, his mouth open with a mid-sentence look, teeth, gone or brown, chin stubble flecked with leaf bits. We lean down, listen for breath. He whispers something that sounds like help, and then, he opens his eyes. “Hello,” he says, adding extra o’s. “A porch is no place to sleep,” our mother says. Asa tells her to make like a tree and leave. “Damn drugs,” she says, followed by “my son” and “junkie.” Asa smiles when she leaves, spits over the porch railing as she backs out

Some things, Bass knew, were better not said, even if at one time everyone was saying them

He dipped his finger in the whipping cream and held it in front of the boy’s mouth. The boy looked down at his feet, then raised his head and licked the cream from the man’s finger.

The phone number I have, my phone number for the last 16 years at least, used to be this other guy’s phone number—

I decided to order the burrito. I pronounced “burrito” wrong. The word fell from me, flabbergasting and impossible.

What your therapist doesn’t realize, you want to tell him, is that any length of loneliness is too long.