Dear, coat rack,My dearest companion, you hang my coats. My scarves. My hats. And, my love. For without you, where would my jackets go? Closets are far too cluttered as it is. The floor is surely no place for a jacket. And I stopped piling clothes onto a chair long ago…ever since, well, ever since I got you. Can I name you? Perhaps Ralph? Oh, Ralph, my darling. Without you, my apartment would be in shambles! Absolute shambles, I say! I just wanted to thank you for your service and your company.XOXOYour Secret Admirer
Dear Secret Admirer, Please stop hanging things from my arms. I’ve got carpal tunnel and that one cardigan that you insist on wearing all the time is really quite itchy. And if you haven’t noticed, I can’t really scratch. And another thing: please, please, for the love of all that is right and holy, DO NOT (and I repeat) DO NOT call me Ralph. It reminds me of the stupid kid from The Simpsons and that’s the last thing I need people thinking about when they see me. Sincerely, Not RalphP.S. I bet you’re wondering how I wrote you this letter. Let’s just say that itchy cardigan of yours owed me one.
Keith Langston writes for Travel Channel, Screen Rant, and Passport Magazine, among others. His personal essays have been featured in Hobart and Talking Writing. His passions are travel, film, and tea.
Elizabeth Bates is a writer and teacher from Washington state where she lives with her husband, son, and two Siberian Huskies. She is a co-columnist of “Full Send” at The Daily Drunk. Bates has recent or forthcoming works with Versification, Seaborne Magazine, and elsewhere.
Categories: Open Letters