(I wrote this story for Esquire Magazine's 78-word flash-fiction contest. They turned it down.)

Boy born in Minnesota, 1917. During Great Depression he survives on flour, rides rails. Goes to Italy in war, sleeps standing up. Wife leaves. Every Father’s Day he waits by phone; daughter never calls. In Chicago he manages gas stations, remarries, but she dies. Moves next door, sees young family in his old apartment, loves them, visits former view. When he’s in hospice snow prevents their coming. Finally roads clear. Young family says goodbye. He smiles and dies.

(gregbeaubien@msn.com)