Category: story starts
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The Judge
The judge sat in the high-backed leather chair behind his desk in the den of his too-big house, staring into the glass of whiskey he held just below eye level, as if he expected the Bushmills 44 Year Old single malt to impart upon him the wisdom of the ages.
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Maze
“Corn by any other name…” he thought, as he confronted yet another hedge wall, the fourth in the past twenty minutes.
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Bear
“But you’re not a bear,” Jess said, not meaning to sound cruel, but unable to help it. “You’re my husband. A man! A human!”