A Flash Fiction Workshop
She works on a cover letter, but isn't sure how to talk about herself without exclamation points.
Gertie had a bunch of Koosh Balls— big ones the size of navel oranges, little ones like ping-pong balls, even one with a goofy plastic face and arms and legs poking out from its rubbery spines—tucked into the roots of the tree.
I want to go to there.
Who needs an MFA when you've got Twitter?
Can you just let it ring a little longer?
You got all sad. Now I feel sad too.