He called. Nineteen years later.
She picked up on the second ring. Like she’d been waiting. Which maybe she had.
He recited what he’d practiced.
She was quiet.
“I know,” she said. “What else?”
He hadn’t expected that.
“Here’s what you’ll do,” she sighed. “Lose my number. Stay away. Goodbye.”
Paul D’Arcy tells stories. All real. Most brief. You can read more at pauldrc.com.
like a Picasso line drawing- so much white space delineated with those few words.
Thanks, Joanna ☺️
It’s right to the point.
🎯 😉
Outstanding, Paul. So many writers these days tend to obfuscate. Or use words like obfuscate:-) Keeping it simple and real is the hardest thing of all.
Well, thank you, David. I appreciate you. ☺️