Christmas Cards
My eccentric aunt sits in front of a stack of approximately one hundred Christmas cards, freshly signed, sealed and stamped.
“May I help? Let me mail them for you,” I offer.
I grab a plastic bag. As I manoeuvre cards into the open bag, about one third fall to the floor. I kneel down to scoop them up.
She begins to wail. “Don’t you realize, I spent forty minutes sorting them into fashionable zip code order?”
Is there any point in explaining they will become part of the greater mass once dropped through the chute at the Central Post Office?
From Guest Contributor Barry O’Farrell
Barry is an actor who sometimes writes, living in Brisbane, Australia. Barry’s stories can be found at Cyclamens & Swords, 101 Words, The Flash Fiction Press and here at A Story In 100 Words. One of Barry’s stories was runner up in the recent Arts Alliance competition.
Please support the site by purchasing one of my books on Amazon. Check out Quitting The Grave, a murder mystery set on the Oregon Trail. Plus, don't forget my other books: They Both Loved Vonnegut, Ahab's Adventures in Wonderland, and Picasso Painted Dinosaurs.