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A Troubled Man by Eugen Oniscu

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A Romanian man looks back regretfully on his cruelty to his first wife and daughters. Image generated with OpenAI Early in the morning, Florea Ivașcu was already at the market, carefully arranging his goods on the stall and rubbing his hands with satisfaction as he waited for customers. He sold fruit and vegetables according to the season. At sixty-two, nothing kept him from being among the first market vendors to arrive and among the last to leave. All the produce he sold he bought from villagers who came into town to sell wholesale, then hurried back to their work in the countryside. Florea was not one of those farmers who worked their own land and sold what they themselves had grown. He simply bought at one price and sold by the kilo in order to make a little extra. Sometimes, when he ran out of stock, he would take his van through the villages, visiting certain growers to buy more produce. His world was there in the market, behind the stall, chatting with customers and other vendor...
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Standish and Bean by Aaron F. Schnore

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Two very different cats, whose owners take them to the vets at the same time every year, form an unlikely friendship. Image generated with OpenAI I. The waiting room of the Happy Paws Veterinary Clinic was bright and scrubbed, with blanched wood floors and animal prints in plastic frames. Near the reception desk, a coffee maker gurgled. The smell of stale coffee mingled with the sharp aroma of antiseptic. The door opened and The Grand Dame entered, swinging an expensive pet carrier in her manicured hand. The carrier itself was cylindrical and emitted a faint, pulsing hum. Its transparent casing was spotless, every bolt, bushing, and LED light installed with precision. Inside, a regal Oriental Shorthair sat upright on his haunches, tail neatly coiled around his paws. His coat was pale and sleek, smooth as porcelain. His ears were oversized and sharply angled, rising from his skull like twin sails, alert to the slightest sound. The cat's name was Standish. With a level stare, he sc...
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Time Ravels by Ajayy Pattanshetty

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It has been too long since Aju visited his parents, and he is surprised by what he finds. Image generated with OpenAI By the time the taxi turned into our street, the light had thinned to a pale winter gold. The driver slowed without asking. He had seen me sit up and look out properly for the first time since we left the airport. "This one?" he said. I nodded. The house looked smaller than I remembered and more stubborn. The gate still leaned a little to one side because my father had fixed it himself fifteen years ago and had never entirely forgiven any carpenter for existing. The upstairs grille needed repainting. The hibiscus bush beside the wall had gone wild. The brass number plate, which my mother used to polish with a devotion out of proportion to its purpose, still caught the light. I did not get out at once. All through the flight and the drive from the airport I had been telling myself practical things. Work had been relentless. Leave had been hard to coordinate. ...
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