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Submitted to Contest #338
Me, to Play “Me, to play.”―Samuel BeckettPrologue After retiring from the hospitality industry, Giuseppe Baldini returned to Italy and began writing his memoirs. Most of his stories were anecdotal; some taking place in Bologna, Italy, and others in the United States, where the former waiter had worked for over thirty years. Unexpectedly, Giuseppe Baldini passed away. Since he had no immediate family, his nephew Paolo was contacted by a neighbor and ended up inheriting a few old paintings, a minuscule library, and an unfinished man...
Submitted to Contest #318
Diary of a Pickpocket “March 3rd This room has become my only shelter. Sealed off from the outside world, it allows me to keep at bay the estrangement I endure when strolling through once-familiar surroundings. Most of the time, the curtains remain shut as I lie on my bed, subdued by relentless bouts of melancholy or the prey of a bizarre loneliness. Yet this passive state is misleading, for my thoughts inexorably gravitate back to those unsuspecting women and the illicit encounters that could take place. Although I consider theft...
Submitted to Contest #317
It was a little after ten when I reached Calle Hospital. Searching for a handle that was no longer there, I pushed a heavy wooden door and stumbled into a dark and humid passageway. The party was being held in one of the many courtyard tenements of Central Havana, just around the corner from Vedado, a few blocks east of the Hotel Nacional. Guided by a thread of light and the sound of salsa music, I jostled my way past the partygoers, asking the few familiar faces I knew if they had seen Ivan. Most of them shook their heads, explaining they, ...
Submitted to Contest #309
Luc and Amélie“Prologue It’s over. All that is left is a lapse of time beset by melancholy, weariness, and a yearning for freedom. Did the undoing, like threads that unravel, commence without our knowing, or can we pinpoint and recognize the exact moment when the end of love began? For the one left behind, ceaselessly wondering how, when, or why, facing this realization is the ultimate pain. At that moment, he or she must understand, without the possibility of appeal, that their love has become a meaningless and unwanted emotion. Out of res...
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