“What if you’re wrong!” he insisted. “What if this happened because we secretly wanted it to happen?” She didn’t move, didn’t try to meet his gaze. “Be honest,” she whispered. “Was it worth it?”
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.