“I’m an undertaker. I lost a lady I buried.”
Each time she opened her mouth, whoever was nearby liked her a little less.
He was never nice, yet I let him move in. This, I thought, was experience.
“I was hoping his face might appear to me on a tortilla.”
“. . . tapping your fist on your palm while I called you names . . .”
“He thought of just the right words to say to Julie.”
“I thought about charging $15 for the cats.”
“It’s amazing how many pretzels fit inside the little bowl.”
What kind of story would you like to write?
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