Category: Six Sentence Stories
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“There’s a Rooster in the Henhouse”: A Six-Sentence Story
A couple of weeks ago, my favorite fellow yoga student asked the class if they would like to join a reading group with some other yoga students. I have a hard time saying no to her; she is the most intriguing female of a group I mentioned in a previous…
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Not a Mets Fan: A Six-Sentence Story
“Just look at that young man in that cowboy hat,” she whispered to her husband, “He should remove that when he’s in church.” “Times change; traditions slip away; younger generations don’t seem to care,” her husband replied indifferently. Then, suddenly he objected, “Hey, you’re wearing a hat; how come it’s…
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A Pinch Was Enough: A Six-Sentence Story
There was a time when I tried smoking–it lasted one night. I woke up with what felt like a burnt mouth and a hangover; it was the first night I drank to excess, too. All I remember was burning through three packs of my parents’ Newports and draining much of…
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White Noise, Seven Hours, and Plenty of O
I use a few things: about ten years ago, I was diagnosed with sleep apnea. My insurance paid for a CPAP machine preseeded by multiple sleep studies. It’s kind of trippy sleeping in a hospital room that looks and feels homey. That is, until the nurse comes in and slaps…
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The Chimes After Chelsea: A Six Sentence Story
James sat at the table watching Chelsea leave, the chimes over the door punctuating her exit. James and Chelsea used to like the unique chimes that announced customers’ entry or exit. James liked how Chelsea would stop talking and grin whenever they sounded. This diner used to be their place;…
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Cleaning Day: a Six-Sentence Story
Larry was at Williams-Sonoma looking for a replacement for their broken vacuum when he saw a representative from DREAME give a full-functioning demonstration to a group of well-heeled shoppers. “The thing is a mop, too, and even has a self-emptying dock, and it responded to voice commands,” Larry texted Lara,…
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What is Sanskrit for “Flirting”: A Six Sentence Story
Jack walked into the yoga studio and rolled out his mat. The room was dark, and from the previous Hot Yoga class, it was still warm and a little humid. “There’s the troublemaker,” Mary said, winking at him while she was in a table pose. Jack smiled and teased back,…
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The MAGA Yogi: A Six Sentence Story
I was rolling out my mat at the local yoga studio when the woman next to me said, “Did you know they took down the Gay flag sign on the window of the coffee house across the parking lot? More of that anti-DEI crap, I guess.” It seems everybody in…
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Why I Always Root for Duke: A Six Sentence Story
On weekdays, I used to set my alarm for the last minute, do my bathroom stuff, get dressed, glance at the morning paper, and then walk briskly to the bus stop. Way back in the 90s, when I worked in a warehouse filled with men who loved basketball every March,…
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Getting Up & Down: A Six Sentence Story
The ground seems farther away these days. No, I haven’t suddenly become tall; I am still the same five feet six inches shorty I was in high school. It’s a perspective thing now that I am 68, continuing my losing (or is it gaining?) battle with obesity and stiffness. The…
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