I give to you a story in eleventy-one words...
They tugged on the door. Peter, the oldest, had his fat sausage fingers around the bottom of the handle. Paul felt his sweaty hands losing his grip on top of the handle. And John, the youngest, used his slender digits to maneuver the crowbar. They tried different angles, but nothing budged the wrought iron.
‘Hopeless,’ remarked Peter as he flopped upon the sidewalk.
‘A waste of time,’ mumbled Paul; he leaned against the wall.
John said nothing.
The duo moved to leave. ‘Are you coming?’
John shook his head. ‘I came to see.’
‘What if there’s nothing there?’
‘Then I will know there’s nothing there.’ He smiled at his two brothers.
No comments:
Post a Comment