“Look, Gary, the truth is that Bill isn’t our firm’s best or brightest. But he’s a good man and a decent lawyer. And frankly, you can’t afford anyone better.” Dejected, Gary sighed and nodded.
When I turned 34, I decided to write a series of short stories. The only catch? Each story had to be 34 words. 34 years, 34 words. No more, no less. These are the fruits.