We’re in a Recession

All the good ones have been taken, you
solemnly declare. Books, men, houses.
We were taught to ration everything like
we’re at war. Flour, fruit, detergent, love,
grief. I never said I love you because I had
only one left in me and I was saving it for
later, like insurance. Plenty of fish in the sea
I tell you. Do you ever imagine our father

in his apartment this smoggy evening, only
the tacky glow of his work laptop to light
his face? Screaming over the phone about
commute, petrol, interest, us, liability.
Then screaming about the phone bill he racks
up. No fish in this economy, you say, some
took all and orphaned the sea. It’s Christmas
and I don’t know what old age looks like
on him, he loves from the other side of a valve
that won’t turn. Guilt coaxes its way up but I
shut the door. Don’t worry, it’ll trickle down.

Anoushka Chauhan is a law student writing from India. She likes owls, the color red, and the occasional Monty Python movie. Her works can be found in Parentheses Journal, Harbor Review, and Sweet Tree Review.