Drabble with the theme "The Three Moons" not chosen for publication
Howard’s number, that hated thing. Bad news comes in threes, they say. But to Howard, threes come in all forms. Three dollars for dinner. Three fingers on his left hand. Three years married and his wife dies.
He thinks immersing himself in his professorship will help him forget. But at every turn, the number three shows up, mocking him, laughing at him.
He hears giggling as he waits for the third light to turn green. He doesn’t want to look, but his eyes turn anyway.
Pressed against the other car’s back window are three, hairy, naked buttocks, mooning him.