My wife and I were on a break, which, to a man, means noticing unbroken things. For instance, I convinced myself that the ceiling fan spun the wrong way. So I deftly undid the wire nuts and replaced it with a new one, then put the old one on the curb, upside-down. The ground looked like some never-ending ceiling. That’s when I noticed the little switch that changed the blades’ direction. I hadn’t gone to work. It was Thursday, which meant my wife was driving to yoga, where a man taught her how to stand on her head.

Nick Bertelson’s micro and flash fiction has been published in Denver Syntax, The Coe Review, The Raleigh Review, and is forthcoming in Poetic Diversity.

Photo Credit: Bob Boyer

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