She will be white picket fences, white wall tires, she will be white robes, white hoods, flame-glow torches, rifle-crack from shooting range at dusk, she will be not that kind of neighborhood, she will be it doesn’t happen here, she will be yapping dogs chained to miniature houses, wearing back-and-forth ruts into trim-perfect lawns, she will be half-open windows and teenage daughters with sad-song radios, she will be the flicker of corner streetlamp and windsong of rustling leaves, Neighborhood Watch signs, garbage pickup at dawn, neighborhood rummage sales, she will be everything you ever wanted, everything you can never, never have.

Most of the fences in Cathy Ulrich’s neighborhood are chain-link or vinyl. Her work has been published in various journals, including Citron Review, Rejection Letters and 100 Word Story.

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