You know, I was once young and dumb (as opposed to the current old and dumb version), which led me to make a questionable decision that resulted in a very memorable car ride.
The young guy was fired up. Not at me. But at Arabs. He was Hispanic American and he let me know in no uncertain terms that he hated Arab Uber drivers.
A lot of guys in relationships secretly yearn for more independence. But is this level of freedom actually good for them?
A piece of flash fiction exploring the unpredictability of sudden romance.
“Thanks,” he croaks. His unnatural gyrations are freaking me out. I ease the car into traffic. He babbles about hiding from the police. I’m brimming with a host of different emotions. His right elbow bangs sharply against the passenger window. “Stop thrashing around.” “Sorry,” he mumbles. But he can’t stop, limbs flailing with the frantic …
Spoiler alert. This post is about to get nasty. Delicate souls should stop reading now because no good will come of it. Trust me, you won't be enlightened, just horrified. Now you Schizer fans, well, pull up a chair and make yourselves comfy.
Check out Fungible Love, 1986, another piece of micro-fiction from yours truly appearing on www.thedrabble.wordpress.com. For those not familiar with what a drabble is, it's a story told in 100 words or less. Check out their site for new micro-fiction and poetry posted daily. You can also view Fungible Love, 1986 on my site.
If you've just met me for the first time and are asking me for help making important life decisions -- alright, I'll give it a shot.
All I wanted was an ice cream cone. Just one ice cream cone. What could go wrong?