301 Moved Permanently
Your body still an arc, a part of this curve we called our own
When I miss you most it is in the memory of your walk or the way you stretched your calf muscles out by balancing on different points of your feet or the scar across the back of your hand, the white ridged skin tattoo you never chose
502 Bad Gateway
Remember that house we looked at in a city we didn’t live in?
It was open and the realtor led us through with a smile. You whispered: imagine who we’d be if we lived here. And I said: if we lived here, we’d be home now. But maybe you’d never seen those ads, because you only said yes.
530 Site is Frozen
Winter came early and you watched your breath leave your mouth
You said you wondered if there was a word for people who read fortunes in the shapes made by breath
You said it was so cold you could taste it
You told me to try and tell you what it reminded me of
451 Redirect
The wine was the color of a bad bruise. It seemed like it only existed to stain: lips, furniture, the white dress I wore because I’m an idiot.
You spent the night talking to everyone else and I didn’t know anyone so I stood in corners and tried to smile
444 No Response
The phone ringing in the other room. In the car, music on, that one song we listened to over and over. Knocking on the door.
100 Continue
Later, I will think of the conversations we started. The ones
interrupted. When you were explaining
something to me. Or I was telling you about
the dream I had. Something always
came up. And there is just this
now: the unfinished.
300 Multiple Choices
In the dream I never finished telling I was taking a test in a classroom without windows. My childhood best friend stood in front of the room, playing with a slinky. She said, Jesus Christ, have you ever tried to make these things go backwards?
And I broke down crying, unable to keep filling out the bubbles on my sheet of paper. I wasn’t sad or frustrated or angry and the tears tasted like rainbow sherbet.
103 Checkpoint
Your hands. Your mouth. The weight of your body. These specifics that add up to a person are what we dwell on after the loss. That the lips on mine will never again be your lips, your hands on my skin, the press of a body into mine will never again be yours.
520 Unknown Error
We can trace everything to its roots. It’s what we are especially good at.
Yet
still
we can not find any explanation here.

Chloe N. Clark

Chloe N. Clark

Chloe N. Clark is a teacher and writer. Her work appears in Apex, Booth, Uncanny, a previous issue of (b)OINK and more. Her chapbook The Science of Unvanishing Objects will be published in February 2018.
Chloe N. Clark

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