Race | A 100 Word Story

#146 Timeless

A hot tip. That’s what it was. So hot, in fact, he began to sweat. Eating lunch one afternoon he overheard a conversation he wouldn’t dare repeat to anyone.

There were five men in front of him. Unable to be still and patient he started to bite his nails. Now four men.

The race was about to begin and he still hadn’t placed his bet. Now three men.

His mouth was suddenly like the Sahara desert, palms sticky. Two men.

He reached in his pocket.

One man.

No wallet.

Panic set in. A shot rang out to start the race.

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Timeless – With Felix Purat

Seeking the eternal in literature and cultural philosophy.

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