“Damn! This one’s persistent!” Lotta teased, as Cherry’s phone rang again. Without thinking, Cherry turned and chucked the phone as far as she could over the Thames, smiling as it slipped beneath the surface.
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.