Collection No. 7 of Very Short Stories posted on my Twitter (@sm_saves). Enjoy.
They draw close under the covers. They are young, still free to challenge being taught they should close the door on each other.
An exchange between the same is not life giving, the others say.
But they give each other life when society threatens to take it away.
Convicted of a crime he didn’t commit, the sentence handed down was stiff: 86 years, no hopes of parole. He saw his wife, tears in her eyes.
Two years later, his new cell mate arrives. A skinny convict with death in his eyes. “I got them all.” The voice was his wife’s.
She deliberated for a hot second. Clearly this was a deliberate cash-for-money scam.
“Of course I’ll wire the processing fee for my prize, but I’m out of gas. Can you mail me $20 cash? Charge it to my winnings.”
When the envelope arrived, she smiled.
To desert the team was bad.
To desert them in the middle of the desert at high noon was deplorable.
To purposefully teleport them all to the middle of the desert at high noon with an ice cream cone in each team member’s hand was purest evil.
He objected. “This,” he waved to the hexagonal object, “is a precious heirloom.”
“If so precious how’d it end up here?” A fire hazard of an antique shop, she thought.
“$75.” She slapped down the cash.
Outside she paired it with its siblings. “One more to go.”
Bougie babes in hot pants with letters on their butts scare me. I repel them in my second hand clothes and resist the keeping-up-with-the-Joneses mentality. I’d rather be vintage than broke.
A day in the city. They snapped selfies at the gardens, museums, and the pier. On the train they reviewed their pictures.
“Delete that one. There’s a rando guy behind us.” He was in the next one. He was in all of them.
They posed for a train selfie and he was there too.
Thank you for reading.