Handle With Care
A flash fiction super short story
He was standing at the edge of the baseball field, near the fence where the weeds grew taller than the benches. Barefoot. Skinny legs all knobby and scratched. The shirt hung off him like a curtain. Gray, with cracked letters across the chest — Top Shelf Auto, Est. 1982.
I’d come out to smoke. The kind of morning where the heat hadn’t set in yet but you …
