He sat in the bright orange room and took in, rested in the moon chair where he liked to read and took a sip of his hot, unsweetened Earl Grey tea with a splash of milk. The glow of the sun warmed him on the cold day that start with snow and ended in sun. The wind blew flakes against the nearby window, which mesmerized him for a moment before he picked up his copy The Living Sea by Captain Jacques Cousteau from the nearby red Ikea table and settled in for a day of reading and happiness.
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Tagged art, beauty, design, entertainment, fiction, flash fiction, interior design, Jacques Cousteau, kitsch, life, literature, new room, orange, people, photo, photograph, photography, photos, pictures, reading, snow, Snow day, The Living Sea, writing
Rebecca stared at the empty post card, unsure of how to apologize for missing her parents’ fiftieth anniversary party. Her cousin would surely be there, and she just couldn’t deal with seeing him again after their encounters. It would be too painful. He would get that look of excitement on his face, she would see his smile, and they would end up back in the situation that she’d already put an end to more than once.
She bought her parents a Thanksgiving post card to combine both excuses in one shot; he would be going to that as well. She thought back to the first day when they were hiking to the top of Mount Glade to the famous sunset lookout. Time was running out because she wasn’t in as good of shape as she’d thought and they needed to rush to make it in time. He beat her to the top and as she climbed the final rocks saw him with myriad colors in the background, holding out his hand to her, and she accepted it. Her hand stayed in his without either of them noticing until it was too late.
Thanksgiving was an enormous loss for her. Some of her best childhood memories were those of her father giving thanks before they all dug in. He always named each of his children on that list, and the rare attention from the patriarch always made her heart skip a beat. Of course, he was always thankful for the roof over their head, meals, and baseball games, but she sat anticipating the sound of her name coming from his lips. And now she would miss it.
As she started to scribble the kindest words she could muster for her parents, they flowed rather smoothly. She finished and looked at it, rereading every word and wondering why her hands were shaking. It was horrible to avoid her family because of a few mistakes, but she had no choice; seeing him again would start it all back up and it was wrong. She read the letter once more and realized that it sounded more friendly than loving, but she had to send it as is. Thanksgiving was in two days and it she didn’t have time to go out and buy another card.
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Tagged 1910s, 1920s, 50th Anniversay, anniversary, art, beauty, couples, dating, entertainment, family, fiction, flash fiction, forbidden love, found art, friends, friendship, kitsch, life, love, people, photo, photograph, photography, photos, pictures, post card, relationships, romance, sad, Thanksgiving, vintage, writing
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Vintage photograph sent to me by Gina Esguerra. Click it for her blog.
She sat down to write him the last letter he would ever get from her. Years of letters had gone unnoticed, unreturned and discarded in the waste bin. She was tired of it all, of him. Thousands of meals, never a single thank you. She didn’t know a single one of her friends who had the guts to leave their husbands, but she would do it. A job was lined up, she had a room with her sister’s family, everything was set.
Maybe he would learn to appreciate the next woman who came into his life. Maybe not. But more importantly, she would be happy.
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Tagged 1950s, art, bad relationships, beauty, couples, dating, divorce, entertainment, family, fiction, flash fiction, friends, friendship, kitsch, leaving him, life, love, marriage, people, photo, photograph, photography, photos, pictures, sad, vintage, writing
Photograph by Gina Esguerra. Click the photograph for her amazing blog.
He opened the car door as if to get out when she stopped him,
“We drove an extra hour for this?”
“Trust me…best burger and fries I have ever had.”
“Where are we, anyway?” she said as she gathered her giant sunglasses and wallet and placed them into her Coach purse.
“Rosie’s Den. Arizona. Look, it’s on the steps!”
“Grand,” she said as she got out of the car. “Wait, where are my sunglasses?”
“You just put them in your bag. Look at these windows! Can you believe this?”
“You can’t even see inside there’s so much shit hanging in them.”
“Hmm, I was actually going to say there’s less stuff than I remember.”
She walked to the door and waited for him to catch up and open the door for her.
“Since when do you wait for me to hold the door?”
“It’s filthy…I didn’t want to touch it.”
He placed his hand on the small of her back as she passed him, then followed her inside.
The fluorescent lights by the door flickered as they entered, buzzed a bit and she turned in an attempt to leave, but he stopped her. “Trust me,” he said to her as an old woman with an obvious mustache in a vintage waitress outfit which was too small for her age approached them, her short skirt revealing antique, wrinkly legs with more varicose veins than either had ever seen.
“Hi! Two, please,” he told her in a cheery voice as his girlfriend shuddered. She clutched her purse tight against her chest as they were led to a booth right next to a bright Arizona Lottery sign in the window.
“Ugh, these windows are filthy! Don’t they ever wash them?”
“How could they with all that stuff on them?” he asked.
She shrugged as the waitress brought them menus. “I’m Flo,” she said.
“Really?” he asked.
“Yes, really,” she said with a bitter tone. “Do you want to hear the specials? Because I’m not wasting my breath if you already know what you want.” She took a cigarette out and lit it.
“Um…you know that’s illegal these days, right?” she asked the waitress.
“Huh?”
“Never mind.”
“We already know what we want,” he said, picking up both menus and handing them back to Flo. “We’ll each have a burger and fries with a chocolate milkshake.”
Flo took both menus from his hand and practically stomped off as if this weren’t part of her job.
“There are things hanging from the ceiling back there covered in flies. This table looks as if it hasn’t been washed in ages. And did you see the cook back there?” She nodded toward the kitchen, which they could see through an order counter. Flo brought a burly balding man their order. He wore a filthy wifebeater covered in what could be years of spills, his hairy chest sticking out of it. “He is disgusting.”
“Just you wait. This burger is the best thing you’ve ever eaten. I guarantee it.”
A loud sizzling noise emitted from the kitchen as he said that as if to support his point.
She started rooting through her purse for something and started pulling out objects as she searched. Hair brush. Makeup. Birth control pills. Wallet. Finally she found what she was looking for, a wet-nap.
“There’s a bathroom.”
“I am not finding out what the bathrooms look like here. I’d rather use a port-a-potty.”
“You won’t use those when we go to football games.”
“Exactly.”
He started to look around at the many items hanging in the old diner. Random papers hung next to the register on the window; a few were bad checks while others seemed to be orders from companies they were awaiting. The open sign flickered a bit as Flo was suddenly next to them with their meals, which she slammed down in front of them a little too hard, throwing a few fries off each plate.
“Anything else?”
“No, I think we’re good,” he said with a huge smile.
He waited.
“What?”
“I want to see you try this.”
She sighed and picked up the burger. A quick turn showed the cheese sliding down the edges, a thick burger and a roll that had seen better days. As she sunk her teeth into it a pickle started to escape from the other side, but that didn’t matter. Her eyes widened as she savored the bite. She chewed with precision and finally swallowed the bite.
“Well?”
She smiled. “I hate when you’re right.” She sunk her teeth into another chunk of the burger as he picked his up.
“See? Told you.”
“Oh my God, it is SO good.”
He took a bite and did the same, except he frowned at the burger and looked at it as he chewed.
“What is it, hun?”
He put it down.
“Hmm. It’s not as good as I remembered.”
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He was nervous for their date. Did he look okay? Should he have brought nicer flowers? Were daisies enough? He stared up at the red brick building where she lived. He was a few minutes early, probably best if he waited a moment. He looked up, counting the windows until he found the one she’d described to him. A little wind chime hung in the open window and after straining to listen he could hear the faint tinkling noise of the pieces of metal hitting each other ever-so-slightly in the mild breeze.
He crossed the street and checked his hair in the side mirror of a truck. Should he have gotten it cut? Then it would have that freshly cut look. If only he’d planned ahead and stopped by the barbers a few days ago.
The sun was getting lower, and half of her building was now in the shadow of the larger apartment building across the street. He looked down at his shoes and thought about the other pair he had on before a last-minute change at home. Should he have stuck with the chucks? He looked down at his button-down plaid shirt and noticed one side was longer than the other. Phew! Good catch. He unbuttoned and then righted the shirt, rebuttoning it.
He looked at his pocket watch. It was time. Exactly on time. He noticed she was always on time for work, the little coffee shop attached to his building. He couldn’t believe after hundreds of coffees he doesn’t even like that he finally got the nerve to talk to her, sit with her during her break, bring her little, thoughtful presents, and finally ask her out. And here he was, nervous like a little kid on the first day of school. He stepped out into the street and jumped as a truck honked its horn. He forgot to check for safety, and didn’t make the mistake again, looking both ways before crossing. As he approached the building he noticed a rectangular flower basin on a small brick wall and then saw it: the plant he’d given her the other day. She’d planted it.
With newfound conviction he walked up and pushed the little button that had her name next to it.
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Tagged art, couples, daisies, dating, entertainment, fiction, first date, flash fiction, found art, found photograph, life, love, people, photo, photograph, photography, photos, pictures, relationships, road safety, romance, writing
A Flash of Inspiration 