Lemme take a stab at one of my 100 syllable stories; this one will revolve around something I've been thinking about a lot lately. I've been feeling kind of lonely recently, probably because I have this notion that everyone should be in love during the holidays (which is sort of ridiculous and probably based strongly- though I'd like not to admit it- on commercialism). It's just that Christmas and the coming of the new year are happy times, and what's happier (or supposedly so) than love? My thoughts, made somewhat more artistic (and pretentious, ha!):
He spent his entire life attempting to disprove the notion that each snowflake is unique- a struggle which ultimately consumed him, depriving him of human interaction...a futile attempt to negate the marriage of science and beauty (a connection of the purest sort). He had been hardened by the severance of his heart from another and so swore to provide Love the greatest service.
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