Posts Tagged ‘Lunch’
Jul
Dr. Marks
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Dr. Marks observes Tommy. “How are you feeling?”
Tommy fidgets. “Okay.”
Dr. Marks writes on her pad and then looks at Tommy again. “Tell me about your friend Sal.”
“He stands up for me when the other kids are mean. Isn’t that right, Sal?” Tommy turns to the empty chair next to him.
“Tommy, was Sal there when Charlie took your lunch?”
“Yeah, he hit him with his history book.”
Dr. Marks writes more notes.
“Tommy, you’re going to be staying here for a while.
“Me and Sal?”
Dr. Marks places a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “Yes, you and Sal.”
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Sep
Family Matters
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“Hola! Anyone inside?”
There were no smells of frying chicken or beans being reheated.
“It’s your Tito,” the elderly man continued.
Someone arrived to sit at one of the picnic tables nearby.
“Ran into your madre. Said you bought a food truck. Set up in my end of town. Sorry your restaurant closed down. Covid’s a beast.”
He shuffled around the vehicle, returning to the truck’s open window.
“Still angry? Not my fault your parents split up.”
The truck’s door opened and a lean young man stepped out.
“Na, not angry, gramps. Now what would you like for lunch today?”
From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs
Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction regardless of the season, although she prefers spring.
Apr
Threatened Birds Nesting
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
You’re eating lunch on a bench in the park, close to a roped-off area where a sign says threatened birds are nesting. It’s the first nice day in a week. You’re enjoying the spring-like weather when a man you’ve never seen before steps out from behind a tree. He points a .38 special at you, shouts, “I regard Henry Ford as an inspiration,” and fires. In just hours, friends have assembled a pop-up shrine at the spot, with flowers, teddy bears, messages of love and respect. Although not me. I’m reading true crime books in order to gather survival tips.
From Guest Contributor Howie Good
Howie is the author most recently of Stick Figure Opera: 99 100-word Prose Poems from Cajun Mutt Press. He co-edits the online journals Unbroken and UnLost.
May
Drought’s End
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
It was almost dark and he pulled into his driveway a happy man.
He had planned to be home in time for lunch, or at least to be at home at lunchtime, home in time for his favorite talking heads to read him the news he’d missed in the morning while he showered so as to make himself presentable at his favorite café, his best black journal open, crying out for him not to allow yet another eight-day lapse without so much as a single penstroke.
It was almost dark and he was happy to have generated three whole sentences.
From Guest Contributor Ron. Lavalette
Aug
Futile Gestures
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Leslie struck at the hand as it approached her face.
“Don’t touch me.”
“There’s a leaf in your hair.”
“I can take care of myself.”
Steven remembered when they cared for each other. He’d cook dinner on nights she got home late. She packed a lunch when he had fieldwork, a chocolate bar hidden at the bottom of the bag.
Those thoughtful gestures became less frequent as the fights occurred more often. She perceived every request as an assault on her freedom. She likely had her own side, but he’d stopped caring long ago.
Steven walked away without another word.
Aug
The Benefit Of Integrity
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
He sat alone at lunch. The rest of the section gathered near the tea urn to create a susurration of disapproval, which reached for some sort of crescendo which might adequately protest his being promoted without due process.
The manager emerged from her office, paused at the door – interrupting her daily early escape – to absorb, glancing occasionally in his direction. Then she approached – a study in authority.
“Sean–”
A sudden gust whipped the vertical blinds inward, toppling a desk tidy perched atop an in-tray filled with unexamined client files. The clatter distracted.
“We’re public servants. They’re entitled. I told them.”
From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid
Sep
Lure Of The Surf
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Chatter heightened in a resort restaurant.
“She’s a striking beauty,” someone blurted. “Out surfing every day,”
another added. “Can’t miss.”
Ken placed lunch servings before the patrons, imagining running into
someone like that.
When work ended, he headed for the beach. Between relationships,
feeling low, he sought peace by the sea. Surfers dotted distant
sparkling waters. Their faces couldn’t be distinguished.
Next day, Ken served the same group of diners who had talked so
passionately about the mystery woman.
“She’s walking ashore holding a surfboard,” someone shouted.
Everyone, including Ken, turned to look out the window.
It was his sister.
From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs
Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction.
Sep
Territorial
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Allison refused to budge. By all rights, she was entitled to stay in this booth as long as she liked. She’d bought a latte after all, never mind that had been well over three hours ago.
She looked around the coffee shop, hoping to find an empty table somewhere else she could direct the interlopers. They were in the midst of the lunch rush, however, when all the students got out of classes. There really were no other options.
“I suppose we can share.” Allison grudgingly scooted over and made room for the happy couple.
Oh, how she hated them.
Sep
Old Mrs. Meyer
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Johan returns with the potatoes for lunch. Mrs. Meyer, who lives opposite, opens her door. Though he’s eleven, the kind old lady still gives him candy.
However, seeing the two Gestapo officers with her, Johan hides.
“My father was German,” she says.
“The Reich is grateful,” they reply.
Soldiers arrive. Knocking down their front door, they drag out his parents and the family in the attic.
“Jew-loving Dutch swine!” says a soldier, spitting at his father.
Johan never sees them again.
His eyes meet Mrs. Meyer’s, peering out from between her curtains.
He never forgets her look of triumphant malice.
From Guest Contributor Ian Fletcher
Born and raised in Cardiff, Wales, Ian has an MA in English from Oxford University. He has had poems and short stories published in Schlock! Webzine, 1947 A Literary Journal, Dead Snakes, Short-story.me, Anotherealm, Under the Bed, A Story In 100 Words, Poems and Poetry, Friday Flash Fiction, and in various anthologies.
Aug
What We Remind Ourselves To See
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
His heart was in the right place, Mama would say. To explain away anything Kurt did. Like it was about location, his heart, being where it should be. He meant well. I nod like I agree. But on good days when Timmy takes a nap after lunch, I go out on the front porch, close the door behind me. Think about how I’d pack just a few things, wear a white summer dress. I stand there on the porch alone, and it’s like I’m riding in a fancy car with the top down. Letting the sun and wind hit me.
From Guest Contributor Beth Mead