Esquire did a short fiction contest.
I did not win, but it was fun to do.
This was my entry:
The man felt a tickling all around his neck.
Suddenly he was home on the Tigris, riding his bicycle by the water.
He smelled dates – and then himself.
The man thought of his first wife, and a blur of other women.
His two sons were playing baseball, then learning to ride.
He felt sad for an instant – and then was defiant.
The door beneath his feet shot open.
And there he swung.
As he did, the world cheered.