The One-Star I Won't Post
a one-star review of her shop, typed since easter. i reread it like checking a tooth. i won't post it.
she opened a little candle shop in the spring and i have had a one-star review typed out since easter. i don't even talk about the candles in it. i'd write about the friendship instead. how she borrowed forty dollars in 2019 and the way she said we should catch up the same week she stopped answering. i've got it worded so it sounds like a real customer who just happened to know things. fair. measured. devastating to exactly one person.
i reread it sometimes in the parking lot before i go in to work, like checking a tooth with my tongue. i'm not going to post it. i know i'm not. five stars under hers, all of them strangers, smells amazing, and then there'd be mine, sitting there crooked, and she'd know in one line it was me. that's the part i like, honestly. not posting it. her not knowing i wrote it. me knowing i could. i closed the app. i'll open it again tomorrow probably. i kept the draft.
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