So there’s this story about Hemingway. He was hanging out at some old boys club and the guys bet him he couldn’t write a six-word story. Being a man who took a bet seriously, he grabbed a drink, went to another table, and a few minutes later came back with this:

For sale. Baby shoes. Never worn.

The first time I read it, I was kind of like wtf. But Hem’s story is pretty good. Makes you think a lot for six words. While working on my novel, I took a crack at a six-word story of my own. You might say, pound for pound, this thing and the book could brawl.

Papers signed. First things first. Lingerie.