So as part of keeping myself in the habit of writing, I’ve decided that on Mondays (or every other Monday) I’m going to write some micro fiction (Mircoe Mondays, if this were an Instagram hashtag). Or hint fiction. If you’re unfamiliar with those terms, micro fiction is a short story told in 250 words or less, and hint fiction is even more extreme at 25 words or less. It usually revolves around a single scene in what could otherwise be a full story, but gives the reader the chance to make their own assumptions, craft their own opinions and expectations of the characters, and that sort of thing. I’ll also begin linking these to their own pages on the blog homepage.
He had been prepared to change his routine when he got married, but hadn’t counted on all the minuscule transformations that would take place in his life. Like how he had to put on his gloves before he left the house on winter mornings. It hardly seemed worth it for the brief moment of exposure he faced to fetch the newspaper from the front yard, a dull crack coming from the lawn as the film of ice released its grip on the bundle of print. But he’d tried ignoring the gloves before and he was unable to get his hands warm again before getting in the car to leave for work.
The bundle hit the table with a wet thwack, though he never paid it much mind. The ice would melt, but the tablecloth was always dry by the time he returned home in the evening, so his concern wasn’t great, hardly present.
This one landed among the pile of the others, all huddled in a concise zone on the round table. There were others on the window seats behind, opened all to the comic strips from months ago.
She woke around noon and remained in the bed upstairs until her husband came home that evening. He would linger downstairs until he was ready to fall asleep, all the while aware of the absurd stack behind him.
And she would wonder where the newspaper was.