A week into the semester I asked my creative writing class if a shopping list could be a story, and after a discussion, I told them to use the remaining half hour of the period to write a one-page story, true or made up, about a shopping trip. It could be for food or clothing or anything, even a fancy sports car. “Make it more than a shopping list,” I told them. “Make it personal.” The class, seventeen juniors and seniors, finished their stories and handed them in at the end of the period. It was the last class of the day, so I stayed at my desk to grade the papers. One of the stories, Amanda’s, was called Swedish Fish. It was very short.

I went to the store. I bought a package of Swedish Fish. On the way home I ate them all. They were good. Greedy me!

On the back of Amanda’s paper there was some writing, but not in English. Swedish, I presumed, since Amanda was Swedish.

jag skulle vilja att du hämtade mig i min säng ... bar mig in till ert sovrum ... ni skulle tyst kl’ av mig min t-shirt ... och hon skulle ta sin hand i mitt hår, och styra min mun mot din kuk ... och hon skulle lära mig suga sig...

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“Sorry I’m late,” I said to Laura when I got home. “I was grading papers and...” I showed Amanda’s paper to Laura.

“What’s this on the back?” she asked.

“Swedish,” I said. “I google translated it on my phone. It took me about an hour to type it in. That’s why I’m late.” I opened my phone to the translation.