Bite-sized tales of groaning erosion, quiet triumph & dreadful absurd
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Stories
I grabbed my backpack, shut the car door behind me, and waved back at Dad. Then I fell into a pack of other freshmen as we all approached the new shiny high school.
The pheasant meat simmered merrily in its bath of white wine and cream alongside diced mushrooms and shallots.
Tony was babbling again by the time his father came out onto the back porch with the phone to his ear.
The weed whacker wouldn’t start. Jerry swore under his breath and dropped to his knees. He checked the fuel tank. Full.