Yeah, we all saw it. He made sure of that. Parked it across two spots — sorta sideways, so nobody could hit his precious yellow…
Do you ever hang in place? A languid breath squeezed from my pores,Like the air in a late-August day, Not yet captured by yours.
By Annie Littlewolf
A 280 word Flash Fiction
The sign said, “Mel’s Landing — 12 kilometres — Gas, Food, Hotel. That was 15 kilometres ago and her gas tank was almost…
