Tiny Stories
Canary Chickens in Coal Mine Baskets Paid Members Public
We rode our squeaky bicycles, which hadn’t seen a drop of oil in a decade. They were beautifully heavy bikes, built as if they should invade Normandy, with their broad handlebars and wiggly seats topped with cracked leather. These were bikes on perpetual loan, borrowed by hotel guest after
The King of Sunrise Paid Members Public
I met a gnome of a man, wizened and perplexed, kneeling next to a twelve foot tall concrete buoy. The buoy had this painted on it: “90 miles to Cuba. Southernmost Point Continental U.S.A.” Behind it, the Atlantic Ocean moved lazily in the wind. “I’m the wizard
The Physics of Unicorns Paid Members Public
On St. Patrick’s Day a bartender, clad in cartoons, sold a bottle of Guinness to a man in a colorful sombrero.
