They burst into the apartment, slammed the door, and collapsed onto the floor. Panting, Dirk turned and smiled. “Holy hell, Damon. That was the most elegant mugging I’ve ever seen! You’re a freaking artist.”
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.