You know how I love the super short fiction. Here are a few vignettes. I say vignettes because, with maybe the exception of the last line, I couldn't get them to read as full stories. Ah well. It got the juices flowing, anyway.
She rubbed her temples and looked up at the sky. "I feel it," she said.
Her pants didn't fit well anymore. It was because of him. And his mother.
He strummed the guitar like his life depended on it. Which it, in fact, did.
She wrapped her baby in the ratty blanket and set him on the concrete steps.
The mouse ran from the house to the tree. It sensed a shadow above. Shit.