He wrote a note and left with his suitcase. When she got home she saw it and cried, wondering when he learned to write.
Written by whatevermort on Monday, May 25, 2009 at 7:07 am
Confiction
…is fictions, only shorter. Why not read the newest submissions? Want to contribute? Tag your tweet with #confic. Or maybe you just want to know more about what Confiction is?
Till death do us part. Or at least, taxes.
Written by shadowsun7 on Monday, May 25, 2009 at 12:00 am
Bob was a geriatric. He had a thing for old dogs. The last one he picked up from the pound died of a heart attack. Mid-wag.
Written by shadowsun7 on Sunday, May 24, 2009 at 11:49 pm
- are you coming home today? she asked. No, he answered, and paused. Does this feel a little like deja vu? Don't be silly, she said-
Written by shadowsun7 on Sunday, May 24, 2009 at 11:36 pm
- are you coming home today? she asked. No, he answered, and paused. Does this feel a little like deja vu? Don't be silly, she said
Written by shadowsun7 on Sunday, May 24, 2009 at 11:35 pm