Supposedly, Hemingway once wrote a story in six words: "For sale: baby shoes, never worn." I'm no Hemingway, but I dig the idea of ultra-short stories.
I write them from time to time. You might like some. You can find me on Twitter at @dcwllms.
Tuesday, January 26, 2016
The mustard stain on my shirt is dry now. It flakes under a fingernail, redrawing its filthy geography. My eyes are drawn to it like I expect it to deal with itself. But it doesn't and I am a mess.