A woman named
“Sarah Wambold” tweeted at Sarah. Sarah checked her profile. Sarah replied
thanking her for holding her tweets and they indeed should meet sometime.
Sarah wrote it as clearly as she could and he verified every letter. They sat in silence for
several minutes before he told her his website couldn’t verify her. He gave her
no real answers as to why but she wasn’t all that surprised. She knew this
version of her was the most mistakable. She wouldn’t be there otherwise.
Sarah sat there
purposeless, watching the more liquid parts of her identity flow silently
around an immovable rock. Sarah wiped away dampness with the back of her hand
as her former boss, cheeks still wet, rushed out the side door. Later, Sarah
stood smoking in the broken gazebo at her apartment complex, dialing
her sponsor’s number and then hanging up, until finally speaking to her in
getting over it,” she told Sarah and that’s all she remembered. Still wasn’t clear for a long time, until it was.
Still was a
mess that Sarah was digging up constantly, with booze and bad advice.