Woo hoo! It's National Flash Fiction Day! A day to celebrate the short and sweet. My granny always said, "Good goods come in small packages." (We tend toward the short side) And she's right. Some of the best stories come in at under 500 words.
So, here's my little contribution to the day. Albeit, perhaps not my best, but my other half reckons it's one of my odder pieces, so that will have to do. So here it is, celebrating both the beauty of getting to the point and oddity, my own 264 little words:
The Cup of Coffee
So, here's my little contribution to the day. Albeit, perhaps not my best, but my other half reckons it's one of my odder pieces, so that will have to do. So here it is, celebrating both the beauty of getting to the point and oddity, my own 264 little words:
The Cup of Coffee
Ellen cursed that cup of coffee, she cursed Tiffany, but
mostly, she cursed herself as she hurried along the sidewalk.
“Ellen! Hi! Come have a coffee with us”
Tiffany had been sitting with her posse of perfectly coifed
girls.
Of course, Ellen could see it all now. They had been lying
in wait. The coffee ready on the table, their open smiles and feigned
friendship. No sooner had she taken a sip than they pounced.
Words like “friends”, “please” and “parties” had swirled
around her.
Now, the cold air burned her throat as she took shallow,
ragged breaths, pumping her arms, propelling herself forward. Her stomach
pushed uncomfortably against the unforgiving band of her jeans, increasing the
pressure on her already bulging bladder.
Had she really believed they wanted to be friends? She had
seen them whispering when she walked up. She didn’t even like coffee.
She hadn’t peed since she’d left home this morning. Tiffany
held court in the girls’ bathroom and Ellen hadn’t been able to face them
again. Their laughter still rang in her ears.
Almost home, now. Ellen felt a drop of sweat roll down her
spine, but she didn’t stop to open her coat. She just walked faster, a slave to
the soft, urgent pain in her abdomen.
All day she had noticed the conversations that stopped as
she passed, seen the furtive glances in the hallways. Everyone knew.
Faster and then faster still. She could see the
house now but the urge was pulsing stronger, stronger. And then warmth down her
leg, turning cold in the frosty air.
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