She was black. Like wood in a fire, glowing in the flame's heat, just before cracking into paled ash. Not burnt, as others said, but burning. On her head she carried a vessel full of men.
Three Girls in an Elevator
It was cold. Anywhere was better than my dorm. Or his dorm. Or hers. Bridgette really just did not need to deal with people right now. Unless they were giving out free hugs. Those always made her giggle. Unfortunately, not enough people were out that night willing to hug strangers. Luckily, there was an easy way to fix that.
A Love Story in 3 Lines
FEATURED FLASH FICTION
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