Fiction

A Day in the Life of The New Yorker’s Fiction Editorial Board, if It Were a Person

5 a.m. I woke up five minutes before my alarm clock. The next five minutes, I spent thinking mediocre, pleasant, and, ultimately, breakfast-related thoughts. I love bagels, I thought. I felt profound and I felt that life was very profound and I was not at all embarrassed about feeling this way. Finally, my alarm clock went off. I realized that I didn’t even need an alarm clock! I chuckled loudly at human nature. I was not self-conscious or ashamed about having chuckled so loud.

3 p.m. In the parking lot at Kmart, an Asian person took my parking space. When I saw that the man was Asian, I let him have the parking spot and did not show any anger in my face. I felt good about myself. My heart swelled and I felt satisfied and good.

9 p.m. I lay in bed thinking about how terrible rape is. How interesting foreign cultures are, I thought. Black people are important, I thought. Then I fell asleep very quickly. I snored immediately and loudly and slept flat on my back. I had one dream about buying a fat hog and doing many interesting things with it that, when I woke up, I couldn’t remember.

6 a.m. After breakfast, I called up a friend and told him about the dream with the fat hog. Isn’t it strange that a fat hog was in my dream! I said. We both chuckled extremely loudly into the phone.