On Openness

by Olivia Dunn

I bought love stamps for the office. I just couldn't stand that brown fucking cracked forever liberty bell any longer. Now we have kings and queens in shades of Easter, eying each other warily: forty four cents of wedding invitation on each invoice for services billed. Staring at them is softening, they sit in a square pile on my neatly organized desk. The office is nearly empty, and I play Band of Horses aloud, unabashedly, singing along to the high keens, the adolescent fervor. I will think about smiling and I will practice prolonged eye contact and I will listen to these songs as many times as I please, because the sound of voice layered upon voice is the loveliest thing I know.


Olivia Dunn blogs here, and writes a weekly column here.