They walk side-by-side with the slow pace of people who have nowhere else to be, despite the bitter cold. The wind leads them on as they follow the footpath, which eventually winds its way to a playground.
‘I didn’t know this was here. Eight years and I still feel like a tourist,’ he says, crossing his arms against the cold.
‘It’s easy to follow the same routine,’ she smiles as she makes her way to the swings. ‘But if it makes you feel any better, most of this was added after you started teaching here.’ Read the rest of this entry »
From: Greg Thorpe
To: Leticia Reynolds
I had been waiting for long enough that the ice in my coffee had melted, topping my drink up by the amount I had already consumed – around thirty milliliters – and cleverly hiding the fact that I preferred to be half an hour early rather than on time. The condensation coalesced on my plastic cup and slid down its length, reminding me that any minute you would appear, your downcast eyes always in search of somewhere innocuous to land, probably starting with my coffee, inspecting the infusion of slow-roasted arabica beans with a dash of milk and, by that point in the cafe sojourn, the by-products of dissolved ice cubes.
Your form materialized on the other side of the street, slow steps weaving around other pedestrians equally frazzled by the rain, umbrellas being whipped from weak grips, grips that couldn’t hold on to what was dear no matter how hard they struggled, grips belonging to weak-willed people who had long since given up on attaining what should be theirs or reaching for something they could only fathom… Read the rest of this entry »
Tags: cafe, coffee, elements, flash, Flash Fiction, Florencia Minuzzi
This was written for the Two for Tuesday Challenge #27. Prompt: Incorporate the following arbitrary ideas into a story: a talking robot, an abandoned building, a pair of sunglasses, a mood of indifference.
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‘I’m fine where I am,’ the robot said as it rifled through the debris of a broken dresser.
‘Oh, that’s perfectly alright with me,’ a disembodied voice responded. It was synthetic, the syllables tied together without particular regard to the resulting sounds. ‘I just don’t understand what you’re trying to achieve by being separated from me.’ Read the rest of this entry »
Tags: building, flash, Flash Fiction, Florencia Minuzzi, indifference, robot, sunglasses, voice
This was written for the Two for Tuesday Challenge #25. Prompt: House Blend.
Linda, you’re looking pretty enthusiastic for a Monday morning. …Wait a minute. That’s not a low-fat
muffin. Or a skinny latte. Have you given up on your third diet already?
Oh, and here comes Jonny. What’s that, you’re getting something different today? Oh, wow, you finally
asked Cynthia out. Congratulations!
Is Lily still not here? She’s going to be late for work again if she doesn’t show up soon. Ah, I see
her, she’s coming in now-
Wait a minute. That doesn’t seem right. Is she crying? And who’s that man pushing her along? Why does
she have such a big coat? Is she hiding bruises?
No, not bruises- Read the rest of this entry »
Tags: barista, bomb, coffee, coffee shop, explosion, flash, Flash Fiction, Florencia Minuzzi
This was written for the Two for Tuesday Challenge #23. Prompt: Blank Canvas.
Some days Victor would dip his paintbrush in oil as blue as the morning sky and attempt to replicate its glory on his mother’s canvas, but the paint would somehow disappear before leaving its mark. Other days a careful shade of grey covering the top half of the canvas would change colour erratically, from red to green and purple, only to vanish before his eyes. Read the rest of this entry »
Tags: blank canvas, canvas, crayons, Flash Fiction, Florencia Minuzzi, oil painting, oil paints, painting, watercolors
This was written for the Two for Tuesday Challenge #21. Prompt: Wax Museum.
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He heard a soft noise as a drop of candlewax hit the floor. He imagined the dust it was adhering to, the speed with which it was solidifying, and fought his own instinct to stop and pick it up.
I don’t have time, he thought as he sped up, not today. Read the rest of this entry »
Tags: angel, Flash Fiction, Florencia Minuzzi, moonlight, museum, short stories, short story, wax, wax museum
Would you like some tea with that? 