Josh Meihaus

Paper Money

A glass ballerina that had shattered in transit, a blender carafe he used as a margarita pitcher, and his wife’s missing curling iron were all that remained of the last, stubborn box that had been relegated to the garage on move-in day last year. Breaking the box down, Larry Harcroft thrust his hip into the entryway table, sending profanity rebounding off the walls of his home and a letter fluttering from the mail pile onto the imitation hardwood floor.