Saturday, April 16, 2011


See on the Red Line to Howard at about 11:50 a.m.

I narrow my eyes and glare at the people on the train.  When I do this, most of them stop looking at me.  But some still dare.  That is why I take other precautions.  I wear these black, baggy clothes so that they cannot see my body.  I cover my fingers in rings so that nobody will take my hand.  I keep my curly hair cropped short so that nobody will run their fingers through it.  I fill my thick lips with metal so that nobody will kiss them.  I armor myself, and I am safe. Nobody can touch me.

I wrote this story on my way to Metropolis Coffee (if you haven't been there, you definitely should) to meet my friend Beckah, an aspiring comic writer and all-around awesome person, for what we designated a "work party."  Both she and I have some other writing projects we have to do, so we figured we'd do it together in a wonderful place with delicious drinks and food.  We mostly just talked the whole time, though. I think it was more party than work.  

Anyway, I am really excited about this story, because it is ACCIDENTALLY exactly one-hundred words long.  How cool is that?  When I pointed this out to Beckah, she informed me that a story of exactly one-hundred words is called a "drabble," which I never knew.  And there, my friends, is your vocabulary lesson for the day.  


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