Beth slowly slouched down in her seat and closed her eyes. In the front of the room, Derek’s presentation was quickly unraveling, collapsing under the awkward weight of his increasingly belligerent and inappropriate humor.
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.