Written last summer…I’d only returned to it today after having recommended it to a student of mine who’d written a descriptive essay on suffering in the roasting confines of a hot car and being overwhelmed with emotion. She wrote a lovely email this evening about the piece she was working on and “The Hot Box,” feeling open and honest and even a bit…relieved. I told her honest writing was, quite often, the best to read and that she was definitely on the right track.
Sad Puppy by Ilona Mikołajczyk; for more information, visit http://safiru.deviantart.com/
The Hot Box
by Kenzie Jennings
It’s a late afternoon, sometime during the sweltering months of summer. He and I have been sitting, sweating, in a stew of broiling tension for the past several hours, unable to escape the hot box of a compact Subaru he’d squandered a chunk of our money on. The car is our marriage’s heated death trap, a burning reminder of the numerous things that have gone wrong over the years — from wayward, spontaneous decisions lacking in rational explanation to vicious, violent outbursts that have, subsequently, landed us here, in our own urbanite version of hell, stuck in the middle of the endless centipede that is Meguro Dori traffic.
All of the Subaru’s windows have been peeled open, allowing for a heady headache of exhaust fumes and hot tar to permeate our tight enclosure, swathing…
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