Here is another of those two-sentence stories with poetry added. I’m thinking of them as “Minuscule” and quick to read.
Read the first Minuscule, the explanation of why I wrote it and got started on this idea, and search under the category Fiction/Poetry Combination for others in the series.
Years after that strange confession in the dining room and I’ve never been able to figure out how many people have actually considered the question of – but I digress, as it is not the topic of the discussion that is of significance. No, what matters is that try as I may, however much I seek to amend memory, in all my revisitings of that conversation I can only see a very good and humble man spilling his heartfelt sorrows to me, speaking with so much emotion, with so much fervor, and with a large green piece of limp spinach plastered to his front tooth.
drew quite a portrait
fate’s cruel pen sketched fleeting flaws
in permanent ink