PEGGY DUFFY's short stories and essays have appeared and are forthcoming in The Washington Post, The Christian Science Monitor, Brevity, Octavo, Drexel Online Journal, mélange, So To Speak, Able Muse, Flashquake and elsewhere. Her fiction was recognized by the Virginia Commission for the Arts as a finalist in the 2001/2002 Individual Artist Fellowship program for literary artists. She has an MFA from George Mason University.

                                                                o-zone


When her boss calls her into his office and informs her, after having taken away two prime accounts last month, that she's not making her quota this quarter

And a representative from the bank telephones to say that she's over her limit on the credit card from which she neglected to have her soon-to-be ex-husband's name removed

And the message on her answering machine from the gynecologist's nurse requests a callback as soon as possible to follow-up on her last pap because the results are uncertain

She runs.

She isn't running from her current boss who's newly engaged and totally anal and intimidated by successful women

Or her old boss who takes her call and says that yes, he's sorry she left and would love to have her back, but business is bad and he can't hire anyone right now

Or her soon-to-be ex-husband who has changed phone numbers as well as jobs at least three times since she saw him last in her lawyer's office five months ago

Or even the memory of her mother who died at 42, the same age she is now, from ovarian cancer.

She runs

Because with her head in the fucking ozone, she likes the reassuring rhythm of her feet solidly striking the ground.

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© 2003 Peggy Duffy