In London (Fiction 59: Four)
Every so often, I step off the curb looking right.
In London there are bold white street curb warnings alerting tourists to LOOK RIGHT. I followed these directions for three months without fail, forever confusing my base pedestrian sensibilities. Now when I cross the street, if no cars guide my senses, I struggle to remember which way to look. Every so often, I step off the curb looking right.
This ultra-short story has been written in what could have been preparation for the Chico News & Review's "Fiction 59" writing contest, a contest with a specification of entries containing precisely 59 words (no more, no less), had it not been spitefully written nearly three weeks after the due date. More will follow, although it is uncertain how many.