A few days ago I was listening to this piece on NPR about a 3-minute story contest. The story has to be so many words or less, I recall 300-400 words, but I am not sure. The rules are that someone in the story must tell a joke and someone must cry. That’s it.
I thought about the possibilities. It’s hard to write a thing like that. I went to bed a couple of nights ago and woke up to the annoying sound of my iPhone’s alarm, with this story almost fully formed in my waking moment’s dream. I repeated it to myself in the shower so not to forget. It took a few days, but on a chilly flight from LA to Detroit I had a few minutes to write it down. So here it is: The great American NoVelLA, which can be read in less than three minutes and is only 228 words long.
Three Suitcases
She sat on the edge of the bench. Three large, ragged suitcases lay by her side on the floor. She looked around nervously. From time to time she careened her neck and looked down the aisle. The wait seemed like hours to her. She grabbed her and hugged herself, bent down and rocked back and forth; rubbing her arms as though she were cold.
He was standing there, when she heard his voice and looked up. “What’s the matter, got gas or tummy ache?” He grinned. “No.” She replied shyly. He looked over at her suitcases in bewilderment. “Is that all yours?” He asked in a puzzled tone. “Yeah.” She replied; her voice breaking and sounding tearful. “For just one night?” He sounded befuddled. She looked down at her feet and fidgeted silently.
His eyes fluttered back and forth between her and the suitcases. She could hear him thinking, rummaging through the folds of his mind, trying to understand, deciding what to say and do. At last he said “well then, let me go get the car” as he turned around and walked away, “be back in a minute.” She did not raise her head to look up. Her eyes saw the back of his blue jeaned legs as he walked away. She leaned forward, hugging herself, rubbing her arms and rocked back and forth more vigorously.
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