If my wife’s hometown had been smaller, she would never have met a man like me. If it had been bigger, I would have fled from her.
The opposing armies took refuge in the same town until the storm ended. Befriended and with no one to fight they returned to their families.
A red lantern on the dark horizon sways under the crying sky. Must be a farmer walking home to a warm kiss. The girl on the train hopes.
The river boils brown after weeks of rain. Little bullocks nose at its edge. A whisker away from death, they munch contentedly. Oblivious.
No one doubted Grant’s survival stories of Alaskan life hardships, but they delayed visits ’til all his frozen whale blubber was consumed.
The new roof on the fish shack was complete. He stood back admiring his work. Slowly he grew old and vanished. Only the building remains.