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New to Five Minute Observations? Welcome. I’m Joe Class III, and I write stories and essays about what I notice, the encounters that reveal something true, and the moments that stick with you after they’re gone. If you’re just getting started, these three pieces will give you a sense of what this space is about:…
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Marshall hit the brakes of the SUV, Lawson almost hitting his head on the dashboard, even with the seatbelt on. Struggling to open his eyes, Lawson rubbed them, blinking a few times. “Where in the ever-loving name of all that is holy are we? And where did you learn to drive, kiddo? Holy crap. You’ve…
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How can you bottle up the essence of spoken word, written prose, or visual mediums without using the term storyteller? Storytelling is an art form transcending time and space, breathing life into characters, and transporting us to places we’ve never been, giving us a ticket for emotional experiences, all of which ignite our creativity and…
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Fieldwork wasn’t for the faint of heart, Anne being one of those homebodies who didn’t like to get out much. She had two close friends, both extroverts who loved dancing, clubbing, going to movies, concerts, and musicals. Neither woman met a stranger, whereas Anne met them all the time. She didn’t want to be out…
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“It’s over now.” She leaned back in the wooden chair at the café, having explained to her boyfriend of almost six years that she was moving on. No. He didn’t do anything wrong, per se. Did he do anything right? Other than never asking for her hand in marriage? No. Not at all. But then…
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Anne Jansen woke up to a high-pitched shrill sound from the hotel’s alarm clock on the nightstand beside her bed. She hated fieldwork because the best part of her job was testing inside the laboratory. Microscopes. Test tubes. Samples. Hours of waiting for results and retesting. Those were the highlights for her. Anne lived for…
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Filling up his coffee cup, she set the full carafe on the table between them, next to the ashtray with five butts from Kathy’s smokes. “Thank you,” Floyd said. Holding the mug to his lips, he blew just enough to cool down to the top of his coffee. Kathy slid back into the booth, flipping…
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Grandpa is a great guy, but he’s got this thing about Oreo cookies. He can’t get enough of them. Before we knew what an obsession was or a sugar addiction, there was what Grandpa called his sweet tooth. And every few days, when Mom, Dad, and my sister, Sarah, visited his condo on the shore…
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Kathy finished her cry, knowing it had been a minute since she checked on Floyd. “I need to check on Floyd,” she said, getting up from the crates. “I’ll go check on him,” Cookie said, wiping his hands on his apron. “Just needs coffee, right? Kinda like Jim? Drinks coffee all day long?” He touched…
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Cookie was sitting on a few upside-down milk crates, jumping up as soon as Kathy opened the swinging door. Tears streamed down her cheeks, smearing her eyeliner and foundation. No sound came from Kathy, her hand pressed tightly over her lips. The older man knew best to leave well enough alone, especially when it came…
Stories. Enjoy!
