The following is a short, short story of mine that received about 5 minutes worth of accolades a few years ago.  After thousands of dollars spent on a college education, and countless squandered opportunities of inspiration, this is pretty much all there is so far folks.  I really need to get on that…

* * *

Untitled

A blonde woman in a car is on a silver phone. She looks down. She’s crying.

There is a man on the sidewalk with a prosthetic leg smoking a wrinkled cigarette. He has given up.

A trolley shudders and a car horn sounds. Pedestrians turn to look and a boy on a bicycle yells and points his finger.

The woman wipes her nose and eyes. She’s finished crying for now. She looks at the man. He flicks the cigarette and nods smoothly in a way he used to when he combed his hair neatly to impress the girls. And he remembers.

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For an antiquated and general review and other stories in CityBeat’s first annual Fiction 101 Story Contest, click here.

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