FICTION • 3
BY COLTON DAVIS
S
eptember 21st, 2020 I’ve realized something important after being under quarantine for six months. I haven’t discovered the meaning of life or the origins of the cosmos or anything like that, but I think I discovered something important nonetheless. I finally figured out why I always burn my popcorn. ~~~ When I was a kid and our mom had to work late, sometimes she dropped us off to stay at our grandparents’ house in the country overnight. My sister Katie and I always stayed up late and watched old movies on VHS and ate microwave popcorn. Our grandparents had a higher wattage microwave than we did, so whenever
we tried to make popcorn it came out a little overcooked. I can remember it as clear as anything now, the subtly charred edges of the puffs of corn like paper turned to ash, but back then I don’t think we really noticed. There are so many things we have to notice now. Student loans due? Notice. The sky’s on fire? Notice. The governor still refusing to unequivocally state that the virus actually exists? Notice. Forget about it. Wonder what’ll happen tomorrow. There’s this strange sort of peace about watching Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade in a country ranch home, eating heavilybuttered popcorn burnt within the margins of notice, so far away in space and time from the taxes and plagues and wars and
