The fabled grey house of Bunker City loomed from its high seat atop Taylor’s Hill.
I found myself staring at the red numbers blinking twelve O’clock from the alarm on my nightstand.
The chair creaked under the weight of the tall man waiting for his coffee.
She took deep slow breathes through and made her daily run in less than ten minutes.
Three of them out of the four had found their way into prestigious colleges.
The painting of a red heart made of ribbon held a special place on her wall.
The small clay pieces that his son had sculpted the night before sat drying in a box on the kitchen table.
The teacher found a way of procrastinating with sample sentences in a word document.
The ugly home grown tomatoes were beautiful sitting atop a sandwich.
Sometimes, writing simple sentences is much harder than it sounds.