I should have been a pair of chucks, slightly used, whose prior smokiness wafted out of the shipping envelope and into my life.
I should have been a pair of eggrolls, microwaved on high for precisely 2 minutes, during which time a PF-Changs-like dipping sauce can be arranged.
I should have been a pair of twins for whom life isn’t fair, endeavoring always to be on the “good” side of that equation.
I should have been married much earlier than I was, but being that way takes me forever.
I should have been fairly willing to compromise with my mother, at least skimming the articles and calling back.
I should have been wary of the doubling voice, the rush I felt when it split me up and terrified.
I should have been a hair more flexible with my sandwich order, taking pleasure not in the confirmation of expectation but in the squishiness of content, just as long as there’s no mustard.