THE TAILOR (a 55-word story)
The young war widow hid him, mending his broken leg.
He’d been a tailor, and he made her lingerie with his parachute’s silk.
“It’s perfect! How did you know my size?”
“My eyes traced your curves a thousand times.”
“Shut them!”
He did.
On his chest, her slender finger spelled three words:
“YOU ARE MINE.”
Alberico Collina
The young war widow hid him, mending his broken leg.
He’d been a tailor, and he made her lingerie with his parachute’s silk.
“It’s perfect! How did you know my size?”
“My eyes traced your curves a thousand times.”
“Shut them!”
He did.
On his chest, her slender finger spelled three words:
“YOU ARE MINE.”
Alberico Collina
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