I was never a “convertible person.” Hot in the summer. Cold in the winter. Buggy. Windy. Nope. Not for me.
But … I had to admit, I looked good. Red was definitely my color.
A horn blasted and I shifted my gaze to the truck also reflected in the store window. Resisting the urge to flip them off, I meekly waved. They roared past me, blasting exhaust.
As that rumble faded, the sound from the trunk grew louder. Time to get back to the task at hand.
I indulged in one last look. Yes. Red definitely was my color.
All around me, conversations swell. I understand little but instead of seeming cacophonous, the words soothe. They distract from my reality until the prosecco dulls the pain.
Then the old woman who runs the osteria stands over me, “Ciligie”?
Seeing the cherries shakes me from my stupor.
She continues, “Devi rimanere per La Notte Rossa.”
The Red Night.
Stuck in an unrelenting loop, I had forgotten the world moves on. Ciliegie abound. And the people celebrate. But not us.
The cherries taunt me with their promise of sweetness but my mind fills with another red night as darkness falls.
Frustrated, Jane muted the tv and glared at her roommates.
Returning Jane’s glare, Peter lit up a joint and took a deep hit before blowing the smoke directly into her face.
“Damn it! Pete. You know I’ve got a Zoom meeting.”
“Not my problem. Shield your face. Wear one of those damn masks you keep sewing.”
Ignoring Pete, she returned to the muted tv. But watching the orange faced idiot gesticulate wildly just made it worse. Feeling the rage building, she closed her eyes and surrendered. Humming “whatever gets you through the night” she whispered, “Pass me that joint.”
Thanks to Linda for giving us the word “joint” for her SoCS challenge.
PSA: I live in a weed-legal state so I’m not advocating breaking the law! 😉
Combining joint with the Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction challenge to write a story about telling someone to “shield your face” resulted in this (thinly veiled) comment on our times. It basically popped into my head almost fully formed, so I only had to delete a couple of words to get it down to the required 99 words. (Meaning, I feel like I also adhered to the spirit of the SoCS rules.) Check out each of their sites for more info and more writing.
Plus thanks for making me think of this fabulous Lennon tune.
She wondered whether the storm windows would hold. They were meant to keep out bad weather, not … well whatever was falling from the sky. It was funny she used to think the end of the world would come later. After she was gone. Not when her dreams were finally within her grasp.
It wasn’t fair. She had done everything right. And now. Now the sky was literally falling.
Lost in thought, her mind barely registered the hissing as the bubbles burst through the window pane.
As the drops burned through her flesh, her mind screamed “It’s not fair!”
Tina Stewart Brakebill 