Category: &More More short stores
The Storm
Her Beautiful View
The Right Wedding
Wilt
Diary of a Golf Ball
The Elevens
Wabbit’s Carat
By Debra Goldstein Peter Wabbit wanted a carat. Not just one carat, twenty to be exact. As he walked through the Louvre’s Gallerie D’Apollon, he merely glanced at the peached colored Hortensia diamond before going to stand before the case housing the white 140.5 carat Regent diamond. Too many carats….
Hunger
By Sheryl Guterl She shyly covers her breastwith a tattered blanket,smiles at the infant,who searches, eyes closed, mouth open,for his nourishment.she sighs when the baby latches on,and only then looks up to meet my stare. I look away, embarrassedby my bold gape,amazed at this miracle of beautyhere—in a cheap motel…
Leisure Suite
By K.B. Nelson Look down at the fractalflounce of my bohodress as I step throughmy day. Absurd to workin such a skirt, my officechair wheels would coil the edges upinto themselves til I’d be foundneatly bound to the chair. Swirl to the weekend beat.Sashay to the piano,take a stab at…
More short stores
The Storm
Her Beautiful View
The Right Wedding
Wilt
Diary of a Golf Ball
The Elevens
Wabbit’s Carat
![](https://dev.bwgwritersroundtable.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/12/Debra-H.-Goldstein-Headshot-small-350x280.jpg)
By Debra Goldstein Peter Wabbit wanted a carat. Not just one carat, twenty to be exact. As he walked through the Louvre’s Gallerie D’Apollon, he merely glanced at the peached colored Hortensia diamond before going to stand before the case housing the white 140.5 carat Regent diamond. Too many carats….
Hunger
By Sheryl Guterl She shyly covers her breastwith a tattered blanket,smiles at the infant,who searches, eyes closed, mouth open,for his nourishment.she sighs when the baby latches on,and only then looks up to meet my stare. I look away, embarrassedby my bold gape,amazed at this miracle of beautyhere—in a cheap motel…
Leisure Suite
By K.B. Nelson Look down at the fractalflounce of my bohodress as I step throughmy day. Absurd to workin such a skirt, my officechair wheels would coil the edges upinto themselves til I’d be foundneatly bound to the chair. Swirl to the weekend beat.Sashay to the piano,take a stab at…