Write the shortest sentence you can.
The sentence must tell a story.

That was the assignment.
How short?
The shortest a sentence can be.
How short can you possibly make a sentence and still be able to tell a story?
I had asked myself the question as I walked home,
How can I tell a story with just one sentence?
Was it even possible?
And then I thought:

Love.

The shortest sentence I had ever written
And it is a sentence.
A demand, with the subject being “you understood” or whatever my teacher told me.

Love.
Love who?
Love anything.
Why love?
Why not?
You love?
You love.
Everyone loves.
I love
We love
You love
So why not love?

Telling a story
With only one word
A whole backstory can be based off from just glancing at that one word

A man walks into a dark place, looking for answers to a question that won’t stop running around his mind. He doesn’t know what to do with his life anymore. So now he’s here. At this tiny little place. The door read “Fortune Teller” but he didn’t need his palm read or even his fortune told. He didn’t want to know his future; he just wanted to know why he should go on and see what would happen to his future. When he walked through the stained glass door, a little bell rang, announcing his entrance. The man blinked as the scents of the small shop room assailed him. The place smelt of Incense, smoke, and dust.
“The answer to life is a tricky one, you know.” A voice of a woman came from behind a beaded curtain. The man could see the elderly woman sitting against a wall with a small, round table in front of her. There was nothing on the table except for the woman’s wrinkled hands, covered in rings.
“You want answers. Why you should go on.” The woman’s voice lures him to the curtain. He pulls the curtain back and the beads tinkle as he walks through its entryway. A chair is set in front of the table and the man sits in it.
“I just don’t know what to live for anymore. I have nothing.” The words fell out of the man’s mouth almost automatically.
“You have much to live for. A future. But you’re not here to hear that. You just want to know what you’re supposed to do next, yes.” The man looked at her face, into her gray eyes. She was blind. But her eyes seemed to see straight through him and still hold all the answers.
“What do I do?” the question that had been chewing at his mind for ages it seemed. The man’s voice was strained, weary.
“It’s simple.” The woman leaned forward and touched his hands that had somehow subconsciously moved on top of the table sitting between the two.
“Love.”