You might be curious about my calling Dr. Cohen “my boyfriend.” You might be thinking, has he tried to kiss my Mom? Has she already invited some old guy with rough skin to join her under that nice goose down quilt she was bragging about? The answer to these things—the idea of which probably makes you shudder—is no.
But when Inevitability lurks nearby, I can smell it.
Jill Riddell is a writer in Chicago. She teaches at the School of the Art Institute and has a weakness for nature, magic, and pennies abandoned in sidewalk cracks.