In an open letter to her blender,

“Did you enjoy your little bath this morning? I wanted you to feel fresh before I take you on the road. You see, I’ve become rather accustomed to enjoying a daily smoothie, and bringing you with me is the best way to make this likely.”

In an open letter to her phone,

“You are a constant reminder of my interests and proclivities. Today, for instance, when I decided to look for some information about The Doobie Brothers, I was greeted by the results of my images search for Huel Perkins….”

In an open letter to her jilted novel,

“I have to admit that you were a convenient receptacle for my basest and most reprehensible thoughts. You loved it when I let pretty words dance together in order to describe something disgusting. That’s all you’re getting out of me….”

In an open letter to a baguette,

“The things we did together this morning made me think of you all day long. I imagined peeling back your paper. I waited for the moment when my teeth would tear through your crackly exterior. Save some for tomorrow morning….”