Marcia Brady shows up at the yard sale I’m having—not a day over 16 with hip-length flat-ironed hair and a short plaid dress that nearly reveals her underpants. Hey, don’t get rid of that, she says, pointing to my vinyl collectible Marcia doll that never sold on Ebay. It’s in the Marcia corner—mugs, lunchbox, T-shirt, socks, wig. Were you obsessed with me or what? Marcia asks, opening her baby blues wider. There’s so much I want to tell her but people are getting out of their cars, stuffing bills into my hand, carting off pieces of my life. Some of them even steal my costume jewelry. I let them. Hey, Marcia says. Remember when I got hit with a football and my nose swelled up and Doug Simpson wouldn’t take me to the dance? Of course, I remember. I’ve seen that episode 53 times. Well, you have to perk up. This isn’t the end of the world. Eventually, your nose goes back to normal. A lady is walking off with our unused crib. A man bought my wedding ring for $57. I realize there’s still so much stuff on the lawn. I’m going to have to call Hunks Hauling Junk to clear the rest of it away. Either that or watch the Sheriff confiscate my belongings when they post the eviction notice on my door. Marcia is trying on the Marcia wig. It makes her look like a sad, small-town hooker. What’s your favorite episode about me? she wants to know. That’s easy. The one where Marcia is trying out for head cheerleader and another girl wins and that’s okay because Marcia has five siblings and parents who love her and you know she’ll grow up to be just fine. What I don’t tell her is not everyone goes back to normal.

Beth Sherman has had more than 200 stories published in literary journals, including Flash Frog, Fictive Dream, Bending Genres, and SmokeLong Quarterly. Her work is featured in Best Microfiction 2024 and Best Small Fictions 2025. She’s also a multiple Pushcart and Best of the Net nominee. She can be reached on social media @bsherm36.