Whistling, he walks his bike down the narrow alley, feeling glad he didn’t listen to his mother and drive. There’s no way I can drive my SUV here, he eyes the narrow street.
Continue reading “Friday Fictioneers: The Occupational Hazard of a Delivery Boy” →
“He tried to fly before he could ride a bike.” The homeless old man said.
Continue reading “Friday Fictioneers: The Man Who Wanted to Fly” →
“I had a great night,” I say with a smile glued my face.
Continue reading “Friday Fictioneers: Blind Dates” →
This is Another Story