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“Ba-bum, ba-bum, ba-bum, ba-bum” beat the small drum through the ultrasound machine. The neophyte musician’s sound was my introduction to the person who would not long after grow large enough to be identifiable as my son.
I cherish the temporary wonder of that moment, in my memory, as today the boy accosts my eardrums with the thumping sound of ceaselessly flipping water bottles.
2 thoughts on “Three Sentence Stories #20”
Not the flipping water bottles. No!!!!!
Love the line “neophyte musician’s sound”
There are worse things than water bottle flipping, so long as it’s done on a surface where the leaking water can easily be wiped up. Now that it’s summer time again, I anticipate a marked uptick in bottle flipping in my near future.
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