Esquire

Recently Esquire magazine posted a short story competition. Very short. Every story submitted must be exactly 78 words. The issue for me wasn't finding a story that short it was deciding which one to submit. These two didn't make the cut:

1) It's about the next time. Trudging past the cars tonight. Daylight heading past accountability. I move slow and with no purpose. End result brings no joy. No faith. New faces appear on the side of the road looking for the next meal. Every hand out wishes it was someplace else and every eye averted wish too. I feel nothing as I pass. No sorrow. No pity. Only angst, exhaustion and ambivalence. Next time I will stop seeing them.
2)
Ground level shot on an empty pill bottle. Tight close-up of the writing on the bottle reads 1000 mg, 24 capsules, 2 refills. Slow zoom out and four other bottles come in to view. Mid-level shot of all bottles and they lead to a bedroom door. Light appears in the vacant space below. Scuffling can be heard. Somebody is falling. A crash happens, a lamp breaks, a light bulb explodes and the light under the door goes out.