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Weekly Contest #196
I was standing at the corner of Pape and Danforth, earbuds cancelling the living noise of my neighbourhood, my own little bubble, when someone tapped my arm. I held a closed umbrella in one hand and in the other a plastic bag with a tuna sandwich in wax paper, for later, some blackberries (two-for-one), and some organic strawberries (they taste better). I turned to see an older woman, seventyish, with a cane and a pained expression on her face. I removed one of my earbuds and raised me eyes at her in a friendly gesture.“I’m sorry, young man,...
Weekly Contest #193
Randle, a dyspeptic sort if there ever was one, was already at odds with Bob after Bob arrived fourteen minutes late for their tee off time. He came trundling up the path from the clubhouse, his ancient golf bag on its rusty cart behind him, head swaying in that way of his, white hair radiating out from under his hat. He had a sloppy way about him, with wrinkled brown shorts and a Hawaiin-print golf shirt under a fleece vest that looked like it had crawled up from the bottom of the laundry pile.“Sorry, Rand, sorry”, he said when he arrived a...
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