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Today's poem or short story prompt is the word "short"
My father was six foot five. He never talked about his size or the advantages height gave him in his life (why would he share this with his children), but his sheer physical presence added an extra dimension to his interactions with people. Waitresses, hotel clerks, gas station attendants, all knew and remembered Bill Powers, even if they didn't know his name. The big guy who owned a travel agency and drove that broken down green Nova. When he paid for the gas or handed the waitress the check they'd unconsciously hold their breath. His hands were the size of small hams. Until you knew that hand was friendly you watched yourself. I mean they watched themselves. I watched myself, too.
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ReplyDeleteSHORT
ReplyDeletewire
(intent)
chassis
(reality)
*pffft*
- Mike Fedel
April, 2013