Tom woke up early to attend to his crying baby and after feeding, burping, and reading him two illustrated books sat down with a cup of coffee with whole milk that was three days past its expiration date but only smelled faintly sour, and then opened Twitter on his phone. He saw that HAD had put out a call for morning submissions and decided on a whim to select a small fragment from an old manuscript he had  grown to loathe, copy it into a separate word document, write his name under the title, export that document to PDF and then click the link HAD had attached to their submission call where he would go on to attach that PDF to the submission form page, and then send it through the magic internet for consideration. He then got into his car and drove through the grey morning’s mild traffic from the LIE to the Grand Central Parkway, to the FDR to a French bakery on 106th street where he purchased two plain croissants and two pain au chocolate (which is French for chocolate pain). He took the pastries with him into the hospital where he visited his father who was recovering from heart surgery that had kept the family on edge for weeks. When he made it to the recovery floor, he was asked to sign in on a form that listed reasons for visitation to pick from. One of those options said “last goodbye,” or maybe it was “final words,” or “big sayonara,” but he neglected to select from any of the three options, and just wrote his name and a sign-in time of one hour later than the actual time in order to stretch his visitation allowance. Tom’s father could not eat the pastries but did eat some apple sauce, and the two looked at pictures of his grandson and laughed a little. An hour or so into the visit, Tom received a note from Aaron saying that the above poem (as he had classified it on the submission form) had been accepted. When he got home from the hospital he wrote this bio and sent it back to Aaron. If you are reading this, his bio has been published in HAD.