I stare down at the porcelain teacup.
It is poisoned.
I glance at my wife's innocent, eager smile across the table.
These murderous attempts have been persisting for a while now.
I take a long sip.
I love her so much that I just don't have the heart to tell her that I am immortal.
YOU ARE READING
The Original 55 Words
Short StoryDuring my writers' course, The Professor has given us the task to create stories using exactly 55 words, No more than 55 words and No less than 55 words. I hope you enjoy my little collection of small writings! I appreciate any constructive critici...
