Near the High School


I am old enough to be your grandfather, don’t notice it, but others do, but young people give up their seat on the subway and I get help crossing the street.

“Hold it, Mister. IT’S RED!”

“Say what?”

“It’s red!!!!!!”

I like the attention; guess it’s what being pretty is like.

Today, I’m sitting on the park bench near the high school. I look up from my paper; here comes the cheerleader and her man.

Ooh. Short skirt.

They want to neck on the bench.

There’s one space too few.

I lower my paper, take a peek, raise it, and keep reading.

Michael Drezin’s short stories and micro-fiction have been published internationally on the net and in print. Comments invited at



All Rise

Broken Whiskey Bottles, Empty Coffee Cups

Eye on Mary

Sleeping Dogs

Don’t Tell the Ending 

Stick Figure Men

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