55 Words, No More, No Less

I only do it once a week. Doubled-over, holding my stomach, pleading with my intestines. Indeed, the pain is excruciating.

This week is no different. I’ve found myself back in line, waiting to be asked, “May I take your order?”

One-by-one, I devour each lightly-salted, ever-so-golden, French fry. And now for my extra-greasy cheese burger…

55 Words, No More, No Less

Over Starbucks coffee, she admitted to her roommate, “I’m confused.”
“Why?” her roommate asked puzzled.
“Yesterday you hugged me. Today you pinched me. Should I be apprehensive about what you will do tomorrow?”
Her roommate looked her square in the eyes and declared, “I am a portmanteau of a friend and enemy...frenemy. Approach me ambivalently.”