“Goodbye,” she tried again. He didn’t turn. She rolled her suitcase out and shut the door. As she left, she thought she finally heard him say something. But no, it was just the TV.
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.