The postman has never penned a letter. Not on paper. For the postman a letter has always been a prayer sent upward from head to heaven. He has also never left home. Now, Mother rests abed, breath labored, bedsores hot. For supper, he serves her mashed potatoes and coleslaw, and afterwards he reads from Pearl S. Buck.

— from “The Postman’s Mother” by Megan Savage, published in Spork, 2006

There are no letter “i”s in this piece, a convincing nod to George Perec’s A Void, which I find very impressive. Try to write just one sentence like this; it is very difficult. This was originally published in 2006, but deserves a fresher read. Read the rest here.