The string quartet played on in the corner. Whether they were completely oblivious to, or trying to enhance the panic in the room, I knew not. My drink was empty but the musical rapture carried me beyond sobriety. The rest of the room stared at me as I shouted requests to the cellist, but I saw no harm in it. We were all about to die, the least we could ask for was good music.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Last Requests
This is an under 75 word story I submitted for an online contest. Before writing it I never realized just how short 75 words is. There will likely be more of these to come, as the site does one of these every month and I find them a healthy exercise in brevity.
The string quartet played on in the corner. Whether they were completely oblivious to, or trying to enhance the panic in the room, I knew not. My drink was empty but the musical rapture carried me beyond sobriety. The rest of the room stared at me as I shouted requests to the cellist, but I saw no harm in it. We were all about to die, the least we could ask for was good music.
The string quartet played on in the corner. Whether they were completely oblivious to, or trying to enhance the panic in the room, I knew not. My drink was empty but the musical rapture carried me beyond sobriety. The rest of the room stared at me as I shouted requests to the cellist, but I saw no harm in it. We were all about to die, the least we could ask for was good music.
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