Legend has it that Hemmingway was in a bar (where else, amirite?) and he was bet that he couldn't make a short story with only ten words. His retort was that he could do it in six. A few seconds and ten bucks on the table later, he said to his drinking companion "For Sale: Baby's shoes. Never worn."
Which just gets creepier and more heartbreaking the more you think about it.
So this week on Short Story Sunday, I try my hand at a super short story. I hope you don't hate it. I hope it's not too much of a tease. I hope no one ever learns how long I spent trying to make it.
Welcome to Short Story Sunday: Hemingway edition!
The coffee’s cold. The cake is old. It doesn’t matter. She said yes!
Also, Dallas, if you're still reading my tripe, this one's for you. I finally managed to write something that's not depressing! Huzzah!