Story Time, Volume 35
This week's @DailyMicroFiction twitter stories, plus a bonus story at the end!
"Which planet," she asked, not talking about planets, "is your favorite?" She looked up from the telescope and up at her boyfriend, face scarce.
"They're all my favorite, love," he replied offhand.
"I like Saturn," she said tersely. "Especially its golden ring."
The electron completes the circuit and, lungs pumping, begins another lap.
The graffiti, a sharp purple silhouette, blazed triumphantly atop the Corporation's headquarters —the prankster had spray painted an outline of himself, turkey-hand style, in painstaking detail.
He got caught. An ex-lover ID'ed him.
Like I said — painstaking detail, and he’d been very excited.
The twenty-eighth Amendment to the United States granted the right to disappear.
The day after its ratification, eighty million Americans vanished and were never heard from again.
“Congratulations,” the nurse said, “and here’s the list of allowable baby names. Pick one.”
It was a short and boring list. The mother turned the form over, expecting to see more options. There were none.
She squinted at the fine print. “I choose ‘malum in se’.”
The last colony-ship to abandon Earth was gilded with a green copper patina, hundreds of years old. Nobody in the scrapyard remembered its origins: crafted in a city that used to be called Paris, transported across an ocean, and standing proudly for almost a thousand years.