Some Days Come before Others
#4 of 52 Fictions for 2026
In Greg’s brain was a tumor that no one knew about. He had Glenn Gould playing on a little speaker beside the toaster: a run of notes, then a single note, and the space around the note. Greg salted his eggs and set them on toast with a slice of cheddar and some avocado. His daughter came into the kitchen and looked at his sandwich and made a face that reminded him of a punk singer expressing feelings about consumerism. Her feeling was she didn’t like eggs, because of the way they smelled. She also had objections to avocado, for reasons more obscure. Greg made her buttered toast and a glass of milk. They sat at the table, and she crunched through the toast and talked with excitement about the neighbors’ new dog, Boogie. Listening, Greg worried that she would want a dog; he tried to think how could talk her out of it. She said that Boogie liked to lick her face. She seemed to find this paradoxically disgusting and delightful. She finished the toast and the milk, and she didn’t say anything about wanting a dog. She went to find her brother. Standing up made Greg a little dizzy, but he didn’t think anything of it. Glenn Gould trilled, then descended, and Greg tidied up his daughter’s crumbs, sweeping them into the palm of one hand with the blade of the other.
EVENT: Author Robert Swartwood has graciously invited me to his Facebook Live channel to talk about the 52 Fictions project, this Thursday at 7pm EST. Here is the event link.
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The fabulous illustrations for these stories are by Erin Schoepke/Lunascape Photograpy. See more of her images here. Follow her on Instagram.
Ooo - this one hit me! I was anticipating a discovery moment, but this little vignette was more provocative. I’m left with an open loop, and an odd sense of caring for Greg's future.
Love this one, Nick, it’s so quietly heartbreaking.