A few of my Substack colleagues have fallen in love with the genre and process of 100 Word Fiction. I haven’t really written many since I published my first book of them, but I decided to dip back in tonight.
***
Edward’s car almost hit the mailbox on the way down the driveway.He felt like it was the only negative in the hyperfocused, Meet-Brianna’s-Mom-For-The-First-Time Dinner.
Inside the colonial, Brianna’s mom said. “Nice. Articulate. Still too old for you.”
Brianna said,“Get used to it. I’ve been attracted to older, intelligent men since I spent childhood afternoons at Mr.Kordzecky’s.”
Brianna’s mom grabbed a dessert fork, used it as a toothpick.
“Bri, you were not attracted to Mr. Kordzecky. You barely spoke to him. You liked that he had a player piano, and a cat that danced on top of it.”
***
Brilliant. So much said I’m so few words. I know how hard it is to write short. You do it so effortlessly, or so it seems.
The kind of stuff moms don’t want to accept as truths