July 28, 2010, 12:30 am
Filed under: literature, Mysteries | Tags: , ,

He had friends with names like Chiffon, or Dmitri. I have no idea where he found these people but it wasn’t in the same place he found me. I was crawling around in the Do-It-Yourself section of the local mega-sized bookstore looking for something about chicken keeping for leisure. We broke up two months later.

The rules, according to a friend, are write a short story that’s fifty-five words long. Another recovered scrap from my hard-drive.


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