The man was too thin, she thought, too unsteady; like anything stronger than a baby’s sneeze would topple him. Which made it all the more odd that he was standing so near the tracks.
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.
The man was too thin, she thought, too unsteady; like anything stronger than a baby’s sneeze would topple him. Which made it all the more odd that he was standing so near the tracks.