27th
A short story about New York City.
I hurried down the street. I wasn’t really sure where I was headed but I knew I had to hurry there.
I stopped in front of a building with big glass windows to check my reflection. I didn’t know where I was going but I knew I had to look put together.
After a few seconds of touching my hair, I stopped. I looked.
I looked and looked some more.
I pressed my hands against the glass. I pressed my face against the glass.
My face began to collapse into itself as I pressed it as hard against the glass as I could. The glass began to crack.
I slid my face down the window until I was laying on the sidewalk. I rolled myself from the building into the street and laid in the street. I was finally doing something right.
That is how I became king of New York.
Read all of my short stories at thecaseydonahue.com/shortstories.
