"Symphony" by Sherman Alexie
The old man claimed that he'd once lost a grand piano. Just misplaced it, he said.
Another old man who flew weekly on business purposefully missed most of his scheduled flights. He wanted to be either the lucky guy who missed a plane wreck or the sad bastard who boarded one.
The young bicyclist didn't see the car. No, the young driver didn't see the bike. No, the bicyclist saw the car and assumed the driver would stop. No, the driver saw the bike and assumed the bicyclist would stop. No, neither of them saw the other. No, they saw each other but neither wanted to let go of their momentum.
On their third date, the woman told the man that she'd had seven lovers. He said that he'd been to bed with nine. The real numbers were 11 and 4.
His uncle chopped off his left big toe with an ax rather than go to Vietnam. He said that it was a brave way to be a coward.
At her husband's funeral, the widow held on to her brother-in-law and thought, for the 78th time in her life, that she might have married the wrong twin.
Last night, a grand piano knocked on the door. I'm lost, it said. I didn't believe it.