GS Grosvenor

Janey and the Hot Dog Queen

Janey resented her short story being subject to Marlena’s opinions. “Your story is… afraid.” Marlena was just another student in the creative writing class at the community college. But because she wrote about French women and Morocco and death, she often acted like she was the instructor. Her hair was long and brooding. Her stories were long and brooding. “The brass marigolds are abundant. Les fleurs sont belles. They die.” It bothered Janey that she never wore her hair up. It bothered Janey that young Mr. Baxter, in his Oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up, let Marlena have the floor for so long while he leafed through Janey’s pages as if there might be some better story underneath.