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Grant’s thoughts about purchasing the Toyota snapped away when the officer softly tapped the driver’s side window. “Hello? Can you roll down the window for me, sir?” Grant didn’t realize the young officer was standing next to his door. The lights were blinding and hypnotizing all at the same time. “Yes, sir. Absolutely.” He quickly
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⚽ Twelve 8-year-olds + 200mg of caffeine + one mortified coach = the best bar story you’ll hear today. Trust us, you want to hear how this ends.
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A late-night traffic stop becomes a reminder: storytelling connects us, grounds us, and makes us known. In a world of strangers, our stories are how we find our way home.
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Before I was old enough to read, I told stories. Imagination incubated, spit out into the world through my limited toddler vocabulary. After being taught how to read and write, the magic turned from oral stories to written stories. Now I was writing my own material, reading everything I could to get ideas, even the
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Staring right at me, I thought she would start screaming, yelling at the top of her lungs. Before you start in on me, I just want to set the record straight – I didn’t start this argument. No. Really. I didn’t. It wasn’t my fault. But then again, the guilty always have a way of
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Standing up, Scott brushed off his uniform. “Right about here,” he pointed with the flashlight, “there’s a spot that doesn’t feel right. Tell me I’m wrong.” Bruce knelt down and felt the spot Scott pointed out to him. “No. You aren’t wrong. That’s a soft spot. Should we try to pry it open?” “And risk
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“Fair enough. You want to answer any more questions?” Grant was silent. “I asked you a question, son.” “I want my attorney.” Sergeant Turner nodded, picking him up by the arm and leading him back to his car. “Watch your head, Mr. McNamar,” he said, helping him into the back seat of the police cruiser.
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Red and blue lights flashed behind the beat-up Toyota Corolla. The car was still intact, one color all around, except for a few rust spots peaking through the rear metallic silver bumper. The tags were still good for another month, and the windows, albeit dirty, were passable by California safety guidelines. None of that mattered
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Nick avoided bars and alcohol, but today seemed like a good day to break that rule. Once in a great while, he would share a glass of wine with his wife, Angela. And there was a time when Nick sipped a 25-year-old scotch with one of the hospital’s biggest donors. He didn’t enjoy it as
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Saying I was uncomfortable would be an understatement, especially with Jasmine and Adam keeping tabs on Amanda. Amanda and I were inseparable. She stuck by my side, making me feel like I had a girlfriend, even for one night. Jasmine wasn’t thrilled with keeping secrets from her best friend’s boyfriend, even less so because she
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“Son, I can’t believe you finished your internship and decided to practice here at UCSF Medical Center. Why in the hell did you come back?” “I came back for you, Dad.” Red rolled his eyes and laughed. “Came back for me? What do you think you’re going to do, Nick? Save me?
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“Relax, Nicholas. It’s not like I died or anything,” Red took a swig from the bottle wrapped up in a brown paper bag. The vodka went down warm, not that Red could taste it anymore. For him, it was like drinking water. “But you could’ve died.” Nick knelt next to Red, an odd thing
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Looking through the plexiglass window to the man sitting on the passenger side of the back seat, I heard him ask me something. “Pardon me?” I asked. “What did you say?” My thoughts wandered for a second, driving through traffic on the 405 freeway. “I said, ‘Do you enjoy driving through this traffic? It
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Laying the microphone down the stage, feedback reverberated through the sound system, making the audience cringe. “I want to be whole again,” the egg-shaped man replied. “What’s your name?” the mysterious magician asked. “Humpty.” “Sir, you have a crack through your shell. And,” he wandered around the man, “it goes all way round, does it
Stories. Enjoy!
5 Minute Observations 