Short Reads
Welcome to my collection of short reads—bite-sized stories designed to captivate and inspire you in just a few minutes. Whether you're looking for a quick escape from your daily routine or a thought-provoking narrative to ponder, these stories are crafted to leave a lasting impression. Dive in, explore different worlds, and experience a range of emotions in a few minutes. Perfect for those moments when you need a brief but meaningful literary experience.
Counting the New Starts
The air outside my car registers a scorching 91 degrees. Nevertheless, there is a team of performers and street vendors standing at the intersection of Via Espana and the little street with no name that is a short cut to Calle Samuel Lewis. It is 12:00 noon, and they are all trying to make a buck.
Waves of heat rise from the asphalt as the three lanes of this short block fill with the exhaust of about thirty cars, dump trucks, and motorcycles, many without mufflers. Diesel smoke, billows into the air, carpeting cars and people with a fine layer of black soot that dulls clothes.
Fort Delaware, Very Much Alive
The air outside my car registers a scorching 91 degrees. Nevertheless, there is a team of performers and street vendors standing at the intersection of Via Espana and the little street with no name that is a short cut to Calle Samuel Lewis. It is 12:00 noon, and they are all trying to make a buck.
Waves of heat rise from the asphalt as the three lanes of this short block fill with the exhaust of about thirty cars, dump trucks, and motorcycles, many without mufflers. Diesel smoke, billows into the air, carpeting cars and people with a fine layer of black soot that dulls clothes.
Stopped at the Light
The air outside my car registers a scorching 91 degrees. Nevertheless, there is a team of performers and street vendors standing at the intersection of Via Espana and the little street with no name that is a short cut to Calle Samuel Lewis. It is 12:00 noon, and they are all trying to make a buck.
Waves of heat rise from the asphalt as the three lanes of this short block fill with the exhaust of about thirty cars, dump trucks, and motorcycles, many without mufflers. Diesel smoke, billows into the air, carpeting cars and people with a fine layer of black soot that dulls clothes.
Turning Tables
“Pick up ten. Vite, vite.” Chef Claude was already tired of this waiter tonight. “If the sauce breaks before it gets to your table, you’ll be wearing it. Do you understand?”
“Oui, Chef.”
Upon hearing this, Chef’s ears burned. “Speaking French doesn’t make you a garçon, remember that.” Chef Claude was in a particular mood this evening.
“Americans.” The acidic words flowed effortlessly off his tongue. “Life is so easy for you, until you actually have to work.”