Runner-up in the 1st Annual Geist Literal Literary Postcard Story Contest.
The accredited home stager says: Living in your home is not the same as selling it.
An established Canadian writer looks back and calls it: Typing: A Life in 26 Keys.
The husband finds his wife down the street at ten at night, persuading the gas station attendant to unlock the glass door. She wants a bag of chips and the ones at the corner store are not the right kind. Back home, he takes out his daybook, skips forward twenty-seven days and writes: Stock chips.
The dentist asks: How do you feel about laughing gas?
The music reviewer thinks about the new album and writes: Threadbare wisps of regret.
The programmer wrote the program and now he’s debugging it. He comes to you, to your station. He sits and sighs briefly, then remembers his strategy: The extra keystroke is our enemy.
The life coach says: It’s about values.
Cuddles was never a child because he was born a shop steward. Two things piss him off, management and co-workers. About one he says: I’m always ready to go Upstairs. To the others he says: What did you do now?
The self-taught taxidermist turned artist thinks: It’s not that unusual.
The international Dutch banker asserts that Canadian banking practices just don’t measure up. Her opinion of a no-interest savings account: That puts no sod on the dike.
The director of investigations and compliance states: You will be given an opportunity to respond.
I’ve met them all and if you ask me, these people are onto something. They have a piece of it. I’d kind of like the dentist to win, though, in some category. For wondering.