Sunday
Sunday Micro Fiction: Fifty Words using Five Prompted Words
Appetite
Randall Brown
Twenty-five crawdad tortillas, dozens of mint juleps, bong hits sprinkled with powder—cocaine, ecstasy?—and down to your last dime, you stood on the edge of the Quarter, arguing for a nitrous oxide-filled balloon on the house.
“You’ll just want more,” the salesman said.
“You’ll always be here,” you answered.
Randall Brown
Twenty-five crawdad tortillas, dozens of mint juleps, bong hits sprinkled with powder—cocaine, ecstasy?—and down to your last dime, you stood on the edge of the Quarter, arguing for a nitrous oxide-filled balloon on the house.
“You’ll just want more,” the salesman said.
“You’ll always be here,” you answered.
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