Next Weekend

She made her way to the cafe. Before reaching for the door, she stopped to take a deep breath. Her apprehension confused her. Wasn’t this supposed to be fun? If she could go back in time and tell her middle school self that in less than ten years, apps would exist that enabled her to go on a date-a-night (heck, two dates-a-night), she would have been overjoyed. But now it felt like a chore.

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The Dog and the Deer

This story was a product of a writing challenge. The aim was to write a-story-a-day for a week. I find that I have a proclivity towards distraction when I sit down to write. I addressed that by setting a timer and giving myself an hour in which to finish each story. I’m sure that I would have crafted something better, given more time. But, it was an exercise in both focus and efficiency.

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My Posthumous Biography

I’ve been listening to a lot of true crime podcasts, lately, with the quarantine and all. Whenever they go into the history of the victim and their personal life, I can’t help but wonder if the victim would agree with the characterization. They usually seem to follow a standard format: “She loved life. She loved to help others. She would give the shirt off her back. She lit up the room when she walked in. Everyone loved here. She had a lot of talents. She had limitless potential.”

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