by Kent Oswald
Sarah kept her nose to the grindstone from an early age, like her mother urged. She kept her ear to the ground and her eye on the ball, just as her father advised. She never understood the advice from her sister about living too literally. Once she wondered if it were possible to measure happiness. She died financially stable and survivor of two (or do you count the really short other one as a third?) relationships. When she was buried, Sarah's nose was raw, her ear dirty and her retina detached.
Kent Oswald writes for money, occasionally for fun and regularly at The Whinydad Chronicle.