The Choral Rotundum

Every year at the vernal equinox, the entire population gathered for the annual Choral Rotundum. Arranged in a large circle, they sang the national anthem for 24 straight hours. The youngest babes held in mei-tais to the most geriatric unable to stand without the help of a cane or pole all attended.

The patriotic fervor acted like a drug, stimulating the vocalists to fervid attention, giving even the most anemic enough stamina to last the entire duration.

Or perhaps they were aided by the knowledge that stepping out of line or lacking appropriate zeal was instantly punished by death.

Fatigue

The day I wound a rope around my neck and jumped off the washing machine wasn’t even the worst day of that week. It started when I met my best friend Helen at McDonald’s for coffee.

“It’s your Harold,” she said. “He’s having an affair.”

I gotta tell ya, I laughed so hard, coffee came out my nose, and it was hot! “Come on,” I said. Harold doesn’t have the stamina to have an affair."

But he was.

And she was our daughter's college roommate.

And our daughter approved.

And I was too tired to divorce him.

So I left.

From Guest Contributor Pat Tyrer

Pat is a writer who hikes and watches birds when the sun is up and star gazes when it’s not. When not reading or writing, she can be found out walking with her dog Emma. Her work has appeared in Readers’ Digest, Quiet Mountain Essays, Black Fox Literary Magazine, among others. She has published two poetry books: Creative Hearts (Path Publishing) and Western Spaces, Western Places (Local Gems Press).