Hi, I’m Margaret. This is my story.
My brother’s best friend’s brother needed an able assistant to help move a heavy chair. His greenwalled apartment was empty mostly already and dingy dark when I arrived into it. Steve or Harry was what I thought his name was.
“Ready to move this large chair?” he said askily.
It seemed like the bunch of geese in his apartment’s corner’s shadows had teeth. The chair was like an elephant chair and it was hard to move out but we got it out.
Once more inside he told me “nice work” nicely. “Thanks Harry!” I said livelily but then the geese teeth all chattered together to disapprove. I’d gotten his name wrong. “I mean Steve.” The chattering doubled up rapidly and feveredly. “Never mind. I’m sorry.”
“No problem,” he said.
John Gabriel Adkins is a Pushcart-nominated writer of microfiction, antistories and other oddities. He is a member of the Still Eating Oranges arts collective, and his stories have appeared in (or are forthcoming from) Squawk Back, Gone Lawn, SPANK the CARP, The Drabble, Apocrypha & Abstractions and more.