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Short stories

Albertine Sarrazin

He puts the chair in the middle of the room. She stands on the chair. He picks up the robust twig.  She pulls up her skirt and tucks the rim into the waist band. He whips the air. She giggles. She invented the game. It is her game. He wants to play the other game but she is bored of the other game. She liked the other game but now she is bored of the other game. He moaned and told her that he did not want to change the game but she said they had to change the game because she was bored of the other game. They have a name for the other game. It sounds like an odious fish. She ordered him out into the back garden. He came back with a frail twig. She kicked him and told him that he was worthless and that if he didn’t find a robust twig she would never allow him in her home again. He returned to the tree and found a robust twig. She took the twig and whipped the air. They listened to the sound. She was happy with the pick of the twig it was robust. She names the robust twig. She calls it Albertine Sarrazin.  He turns on the light above her head. The light bulb sways gently. They are at the top of the house, alone. Nobody will disturb them. There are no windows but it is raining. She has a name for him. It is a secret. He walks around her. With the robust twig he touches her bottom. She twitches. He would like her to fall from the chair so that he could jump on her and play the other game but she will not fall. Today they will revise their French. 

S.D. Lee

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