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100 words long. Not a word more, not a word less.
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I Make Myself Smile by Giles Ward
Like drawing a sparkler through the dark as a kid, or dragging driftwood points across the wet sand, I stand and write with my gushing urine-flow into the centre of the bowl. A froth boils on the surface and I tease the tiny bubbles from the edge to make shapes in the middle: I make a leaping hare, an ostrich, a crippled old hag with a stick, Australia, a car, a four-limbed octo-mess. I make the Monthly Interim Strategic Operational Meeting drift from my mind. I make the MD’s balding profile out of stagnant, coffee-laced piss. I make myself smile.
The SHORT TALE 100 – SEPTEMBER 2016