On a tangent, here I go:

Wedding dress delivered. Groom never returned.

He called once. Then silence forever.

Letters unopened. He died that week.

Dog waited. Door never opened again.

She smiled. Then the monitors flatlined.

Mirror smiled after I walked away.

Closet door open. I never moved.

Funeral today. I’m still breathing, barely.

Grave dug early. They knew already.

My reflection blinked. I did not.

Two hearts: One stayed, one wandered.

Her perfume lingered years after goodbye.

Lottery won. Lost the ticket. Typical.

Ghosted her. Married her later. Oops.

Bought a treadmill. Great clothes rack.

Sold soul. Gave refund. Customer dissatisfied.

Baby monitor crackled. Crib was empty.

He knocked. She’d buried him yesterday.

The photograph moved slightly overnight. Again.

Door locked. Knob still turned slowly.

She smiled. Her eyes stayed still.

Found diary. Last entry dated tomorrow.

Wedding called off. Groom found headless.

Funeral roses wilted before they arrived.

Swings creaked. Children gone years ago.

Widow slept. Husband’s ring felt warm.

Coffin opened. No one inside, again.

Did the doll wink at me?

Mother hummed lullabies to the ashes.

Eyes in mirror weren’t my color.

House sighed. Walls remembered the screaming.

Child drew me perfectly…before meeting.

Therapist wrote “delusional.” Then vanished, too.

The dog one is the saddest.

Can’t beat Hemingway at his game.

Writing short stories is very hard.