“I’m sick and tired of this ever present fog around here,” Marie said. “We haven’t seen the sun since we first arrived.”
“That’s why the rates are so cheap,” Jim said. “It’s the off-season here. This is the only way we could afford to take this trip. It would have cost three or four times more if we had booked during the high-season.”
“Then we should have gone somewhere else,” Marie said. “The brochure said that our cabin has an ocean view to the west and a mountain view to the east.” Pointing west, she said, “Do you see the ocean through the window, Jim?”
“No,” Jim responded.
Marie then turned and pointed toward the east. “What about the mountains?”
“No,” Jim said.
“No,” Marie said. “No ocean, no mountains. A fog so thick you can barely see your hands in front of your face. And it’s cold and damp. This is the worst vacation ever.”
“Are you done?” Jim asked.
“Yes, Jim, I’m so very done.”
Jim put on his cap and jacket and walked out of the cabin door.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Maria shouted after him, but Jim had already disappeared into the thick fog.
Written for Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner from Roger Shipp. Photo credit: 14946675160vn34 AugustMorgue File.