There was a crooked door where a very crooked man lived… and so on. I wonder how long it would take to get used to a door like this, would I perpetually creak over to one side in order to feel that I was standing upright? Or would I start to lean slightly with the door, and slowly over the years, end up with a permanent bend to the right as I walked about the city? There was a crooked writer who lived behind a crooked door, she leaned to the right with all her might, and thought the rest of the world not quite right.
Ted’s Day Out, a short story available on Amazon
Copyright Notice©Susan Sheldon Nolen All written work produced herein is protected by copyright and can only be reproduced with expressed permission from the author. All art work produced herein is protected by copyright and can only be reproduced with expressed permission from the artist.
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