TINY STORIES

As the storm raged on, the train approached the bridge. Fiona's mistake was switching seats.

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Out of the darkness, the neon flashed: ”Automat”. Within, kindred souls warmed over free “ketchup soup”.

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No matter that he broke her heart. She will forever regret the stain of lentil stew on the ceiling.

                                            

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Two tiny ladies gingerly balanced upon their high heel shoes. It was merely a gentle breeze that toppled them.

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This was their last kiss. He turned, and wiped away a tear along with his fingerprints.

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When you are seven, you will always cherish the aroma of apple tarts. When

you are seven, you will always have your grandmother there to bake them.

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There are a thousand more places I would rather be than here. But then, I get to glow in the dark like those forgotten plastic saints.

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One summer's eve, he touched her skin through a small hole in her skirt. Today, it hangs abandoned on a rack in the Good Will.

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The naked woman stood on the seventh floor ledge. She was only supposed to teach him a lesson until the chorus of onlookers shouted, “Jump.”

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Wearily, Dr. Maudlin turned off the laboratory's lights and crept out. He failed to notice the malus peregrinus lurking in the corner.

   

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Winky Dink's escape was immenent until someone erased the dangling rope.

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Miss Holloway was born on a dark winter morning ; a brittle branch breaking day. Now is the Autumn of her life.

                                        

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One dead leaf clings to her window. He is gone.

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