Very short stories

  It will be cold, tonight. The old man knows it. The grass behind the dustbin is still damp, and the ground is wet. The earth is greedy, when it’s thirsty: it soaks your meat; it crushes your bones. It soaks through...

  Lazily strolling around the city centre on a sunny Saturday morning, unusual for the season, Mr. Persichetti, a surveyor, impeccable in his tailored suit, noticed that a figure on the opposite side of the street, with his back turned...

  I'll tell you the story of Ciclón while I’m brushing my hair. Actually, his name was Justicia and when he was a kid he had worked as a mule herder, a quiet job. The vast plains of Andalusia had...

  Mother, a small room will be enough. A kitchen and a small room with the bright light from the garden. A veranda. The kitchen and a veranda. I'm tired of dark corridors. The pain in my hands will disappear and...

   A dirty story of true jazz January 6th, 1987. I remember the date very well. What I need is just to forget it! On that bloody night I nearly ran the risk (oh, me the fibber!) of going to please...