Miniature Fictions

Indignant innocence with a backbone of flagrant irresponsibility imbued the tone of the man who had almost run Doris over. She could not believe this. She, standing on the sidewalk, still alive, shaken but not injured, with this man screaming at her from the lowered window of his white “Explorer.” The worst part was the little boy in the back seat, who didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Finally, she pulled a mealy apple from her tote and threw it toward the man’s head. It fell short, with a weak thud.

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