Brush With Death

Passage, Passage Way, Way, Path, Pathway

“It was a brush with death, I tell you,” Mary declared to her friends Peter and Jane.

“What happened?” Jane exclaimed.

“I was crossing the little foot bridge over by the train station, and just as I was halfway over my phone rang.  I stopped to get it from my jeans pocket, and I slipped.”

“You mean you fell from the bridge onto the tracks?” Peter asked with a worried expression.

“No, but I did drop my phone on the ground.  My whole life is on it.”


Padre

Weekend Writing Prompt #230 – Brush in 87 words

3 thoughts on “Brush With Death

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