Storygram #144
He had been mashing the gas pedal for so long, he wondered if it would ever come off the floor. But he was growing more confident that everything would be fine because the last quarter mile leading to the last curve was in sight.
Storygram #143
I smile down at an old friend. He wears a shell for protection and is unconcerned with struggles for power because he is a humble creature who wishes to be left alone. It’s a little habit of mine, picking up rocks shaped like animals I once knew.
Storygram #142
She shuffled down the sidewalk with an armful of file folders. They slipped down every few steps, and she had to hike them up. Her arm was growing weary of its load. With only twenty minutes left until six o’clock, she had to hurry if those files were going to get to her office in London by tomorrow.
Storygram #141
They skipped up to the little chapel with their hands locked in an inseparable tangle. All they heard was their own laughter. All they thought was of the happiness they shared. All they felt were their rapidly beating hearts pumping out adrenaline saturated with love.
Storygram #140
The old swing, ya see it there, lad? That’s what me father an’ I erected when I were just a wee one like you. An’ that well standin’ there… Aye, that cursed well. I didn’t have your fancy swing sets an’ your outdoor games of every sorts, but I had that swing.
Storygram #139
Going for an evening jog is how I shove the day’s problems out of my mind. They’re fat and weigh me down, but when I’ve jogged far enough, they quit trying to keep up. I leave them panting on the side of the road, while I enjoy my new lightness.