Fiction: Fifteen Stories, ≤ Fifteen Words

“I disagree.”
“Yes, he said.”
The cat watched, bemused.
“What should I do?” “Forget.”
“Why are you wearing that hat?”
“Do you think someone died in this?”
“You’re leaving me?” “I was never with you.”
“I used to love this one,” Rebecca said sadly.
He climbed onto the bed and finally closed his eyes.
The flames were so warm, he had to remove his coat.
“For the first time a Venusian artist is the UK Number 1.”
The last time I saw my mother was the day I started nursery.
Suddenly I realised that I was the Monica to his Chandler, not the Joey.
“How can people think that he represents people like us? He’s only got two arms!”

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