A Misunderstanding 🐚 *from the archives*

He had flown across country.

He works up the courage to tell me over two slices of cheap Center City pizza. His. It's the kind of stuff I won't touch unless I'm drunk or desperate.

Strange, how he's ravenous now. Last night, there were two dozen clams coaxed open by white wine, my narrow kitchen fragrant with expectation. He remained in bed — my bed — mumbles he's tired from traveling.

"I think there have been some misunderstandings," he says, cramming pizza into his mouth. "I can't do long distance."

He had flown across country, I thought, to visit me. A misunderstanding.

Clams don't keep. I ate every one.

_

Editor’s note: Here’s one of my faves from the archives called “A Misunderstanding 🐚” first published in My Favorite Breakup on Jan. 8, 2023.

We’re back from a brief summer break and doing a month of nostalgia. Before we return to publishing new stories, note that submissions are open now (and always): Please write down your heartache or fond memz or hard-won lessons or goofiest teen kiss tales and send them in here. I can’t wait to read them. -jz