Truly micro: fiction of a single sentence.
The bedsheets smell like sleep; bottomless, drowning, cobwebbed with welcome.
For your information and in regards to any further technical queries, please be aware that the gentleman with whom you associated is no longer with the company.
Having chosen the path of least risk and minimal hurt, she closed in on herself, and life was no less painful for the absence.
The best conversations she has are the ones of her imagining.
High arched brows, both thin and black, her eyes were perfectly round, a startling green and ringed with bright blue, and such thick feathered lashes she wore, two small circles of blush drawn symmetrically beneath cheekbones left sharp by the sag of skin, and the wrinkles were a part of it, too, gathering powder, matching curves that swooped down and then up again from the corners of a mouth left nondescript by the absence of both paint and smiles; for instead of a face, the woman had a butterfly.
First there was the fragility of her exposed teeth, as she anticipated being victimised by the necessary interaction again; second came the standardisation of the expression, made practically obligatory for anyone not exerting themselves to battle.
Once you have registered the receipt of your new baby girl, fabricate, bend and weld in accordance with the performance criteria laid down in mythology, the standards as outlined in contemporary media, the particular requirements of this family, and to the satisfaction of her future husband.
Gilt with sentiment, he should not have been surprised to see her wedding ring atop the dresser where he habitually discarded his own.
Lovingly crafted by the hands of skilled mechanics, from the drawing boards of the best engineers, each intricate device governing the flex of claw, line of laser, placement of screw a demonstration of sheer mastery in microtechnology, all could admit the stained-glass window mass assembly machine was a true work of art.