The Pickup Truck
The Pickup Truck Old, rusty, and brown, that’s me. Once long ago, I was a looker before the years got to me. My four tires are nearly slick but patched so many times that it counts as more tread. Sometimes my tires look almost flat, but if you keep airing them up, they’ll get you where you’re going. Lightly pumping my brake pedal will bring you to a nice stop. Slam on my brake, and I’ll keep on a going. Slam again, and I’ll throw you through the windshield. Being a standard, I have a clutch and a long gear shifter on the floor. There is a round ball on the top...
Read MoreThe Train Station
Tom straightened his tie then put on his hat. Why did he have to make this business trip? He hated that Train Station. He only went there when there was no other choice. Memories began flooding his mind increasing his anxiety. She told him she would return, but he had waited hours before a policeman took him away. Elsa put on her hat, coat and walked to her nightstand. She carefully took the picture from its frame, looked at the small boy in the photo then gently put it into her purse. Memories of that day long ago made tears roll down her cheeks. Why had she fallen ill...
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