Rejection 117

And, if the last rejection wasn't enough to satisfy Mr. Lovelace, in my mailbox this evening rested a rejection from Salamander.

Seeing the envelope, I recalled the thought process I had when researching Salamander, and perhaps it will shed light on the error of  my egotistical ways:

I honestly remember looking at past contributors and thinking, "Oh, Jhumpa Lahiri...Well, why not?"

Should I have known better that Ms. Lahiri and I would never end up in the same archive? Yes.

She's a very pretty lady though, and, for a second, I thought, "Well, I'm very pretty, too.  We should write letters to each other about how much we enjoy being published in Salamander together." While still in this daze, I dropped the submission in the mailbox, the clang of the metal door, waking me and making me go, "Oh, no, that's not going to come of much."

And here, mailed right back, is a tiny slip of paper confirming that Jhumpa and I are not meant to brush each other's hair long into the night or make smores explode in the microwave or put the dorky girl's (who Mom said we had to invite) hand in warm water until she peed her New Kids on the Block sleeping bag.

KIT, anyway, Jhumpa.