Unmei
A 50 Word Micro Fiction
May 12, 2023
Chekhov’s gun. Nestled in my dad’s bottom drawer, poorly hidden. I know the moments in my life are not literary devices, but it’s there. I can feel it, expectant. The hush before the boom, the yawn before sleep. But, where to aim? At me or the ones who built me?
Whether you are cultured or uncultured swine, you should read this poetry:
For great Flash Fiction read this by the always talented FJCMontenegro:
